


Send Nudes

by voxane



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal, Background Victuuri - Freeform, Don't take any of this too seriously, Hung Otabek, JJ style advice ™, Just terrible sexual mishaps, M/M, Mila Babicheva's shopping adventure, Plisetsky Rampage™, Rimming, Switching, Team Russia can't get their shit together, Yakov Feltsman does not deserve this, comical mishaps, lack of communications, masturbating to cell phone pictures, switching negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxane/pseuds/voxane
Summary: Otabek has never really considered the idea of sending or receiving inappropriate pictures. It never interested him or crossed his mind. Until he thinks about the idea of Yuri Plisetsky sending him inappropriate pictures and then it becomes the only thing he can ever think about.





	1. In Which Otabek Jacks Off to His Best Friends Selfie

**Author's Note:**

> WELP I haven't written fanfic in over a decade and it was ABYSMAL then but here we fucking go I guess. A big shout out to my friend Ashley for key smashing headcannons with me so much I needed to scratch this itch.

“Anyways, Beka, I was totally justified.” Yuri sighed, throwing his arms in a way that gave Otabek a great look at the ceiling. He hummed and stared at the dust collecting on Yuri’s fan blades waiting until Yuri realized Otabek clearly couldn’t see him from the angle he had his phone. He mumbled some Russian curses before he tilted the screen to his face again, lips in a tight pout. Otabek couldn’t help the rise of the corner of his mouth.  
  
“It’s not funny. I had to see Katsudon’s dick. I’m scarred. I should sue the both of them for sexual harassment.” Yuri's  tone was too casual for his alleged rage, but it showed  in his scrunched up face. Otabek thinks Yuri’s honestly over the entire ordeal (probably.) but he needs to complain a little more to truly get it out of his system. Typical Plistetsky coping mechanism. Otabek scratched the back of his head.

“Why did Victor show you those pictures anyway?”  
  
Yuri looks off at something on the side of his room. Otabek thinks it’s probably his desk that’s always a mess and covered with various trinkets. Otabek’s even spotted some of his medals there, usually bronze. One's Yuri doesn’t find worth displaying. It usually meant he lost to JJ and someone had the decency  to fish them out of the trash. Yuri chews on the inside of his mouth and doesn’t answer for a moment. Otabek can’t tell through the phone, but Yuri might be blushing. Maybe he just wants him to be.  
  
“It’s not important. He felt the need to show picture of his gross boyfriend. Like, who does that shit to people? Why is he _like_ this?  I think the attempted murder is warranted."  
  
“Tell it to the judge, Plisetsky” Otabek smiled softly. Yuri prattled on for a little longer about how ridiculous it was. He caught bits and pieces of the story Yuri was weaving (apparently Katsuki himself was mortified, Georgi made loud exclamations of how ‘he would _never_ ’, Yakov nearly tore what was left of his hair out) but Otabek couldn't find the means to focus. His mind was honestly elsewhere. He couldn't imagine Yuuri Katsuki posing for inappropriate photos. Eros stint aside, it just didn’t seem like his style. Not consciously, Otabek found his mind trying to grasp what they could even look like. He had no interest in seeing Yuuri in any kind of undress, if her to be frank, but he needed to put the puzzle pieces together to get to the root of this. He thinks he would probably be on a bed, really domestic. Slender legs splayed out, back arched to an appealing curve. He’d have his hand on the base of his cock, the other pushing back his delicate blond hair.

Fuck.  
  
Otabek immediately focused all his attention the _real_ Yuri, feeling like a child who got caught daydreaming in class by his teacher. Daydreaming in class with a god damn hard on. He forced himself too look Yuri dead in the eyes, and quickly dispelled the mental image. For the most part. Otabek tried to grasp what he could out of the conversation with context clues, Yuri ranted at breakneck speed so it was honestly a challenge. From what he could tell the topi had changed to his short program. He nodded and made non committal noises at appropriate times. He hoped to god that his acting was enough for Yuri, and he didn't notice that Otabek checked out. He wasn't sure he had a rational excuse for what just happened.

“Yo, Beka. Anyone home there? You haven’t like, breathed, for like a minute.” Of course Yuri noticed. Otabek was probably staring forward this whole time like someone broke him. Someone  _did_ break him, It was honestly Yuri’s own fault for looking so stupid good. Otabek couldn’t waste any more time, Yuri's brows were in a tight V, irritation plain on his face. Which was wasn't a bad thing, really. Irritation was a common setting for Yuri. The fact he was just stewing there and not acting incredulous meant at the very least Otabek wasn’t fucking drooling on himself. Small victories.

“Sorry Yuri. Long day. It’s late, I should go.” None of those things were lies, so he didn’t feel any guilt saying it. He made sure to maintain a straight face, before offering a soft smile. “Good night, Yura. Talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up once Yuri waved back to him, sending him off in Russian. At least Yuri understood, and the time difference was on Otabek’s side. It wasn’t _totally_ weird to abruptly excuse himself.

He dropped his phone haphazardly onto his comforter and leaned back into his pillows. He felt his whole body relax as he let out a deep breath he had no idea he was even holding. Otabek stared at the ceiling as if he could see his own reflection, mentally coaching him that he needed to calm the hell down. This wasn’t anything new, or weird, or even  _bad._ He thought of Yuri like this before. He thinks Yuri has thought the same. He could _feel_ a level of magnetism between them, and the amount of effort they spend just to talk to each other is so telling. As much as they talked, they never talked about _this_. Otabek never felt quite like this before, not for anyone before Yuri. He wasn't even sure the depth of his emotions. Otabek didn’t really want to think about it right now. He didn’t want the stress and confusion to ruin the boner he maintained through the end of the call.

It's a little ridiculous. Just the thought of Yuri sending him a naked photo has him harder than he’s been in ages. He heard his phone’s text notification go off and his cock twitched. Like Pavlov’s fucking bell. He picked up his phone with his right hand, letting his other wander beneath the waistband of his sweat pants. It was Yuri. He sometimes would text him even after they talked for hours. After they said good night.

  **Yuri [10:02]: Potya says goodnight too**

It was a picture of Yuri with his cat, big fluffy thing that clearly did not want to be a part of this. He was wearing one of his confident smiles that always made Otabek’s mouth run a little dry. Yuri had his hair pulled back (Otabek wondered if he knew that was the way he liked best, it was easiest to see his face like this) a few strands fell in front of his ear. His eyes were bright and he didn’t look remotely worn down from practice. Otabek was about to finally acknowledge that there was even a cat in the photo when his eyes grazed down to Yuri’s collarbone before he realized Yuri was shirtless. His dick twitched again, and he could resist pumping himself.

 He almost felt guilty. Yuri sent him this perfectly innocent picture Otabek couldn’t resist jerking off to it. It was fucking gross, but the momentum of Otabek's thoughts couldn’t be stopped at this point. Yuri was irresistible sometimes. He drank in every one of Yuri's features. The way his head was tilted, his neck looked delicate and long. Otabek thought it could only look better covered in soft red love bites. His skin was so inviting, so impossibly soft. (Otabek doesn’t know first hand, but he’s certain). He started fisting himself more aggressively, shame all but thrown out the window at this point. Not entirely, though. There was a part of him that wanted this to be over and done with so bad. He was at odds with his last shred of dignity being so loud in his mind.

The screen on his phone went dim. He tapped it with his free hand, not letting up at all despite the distraction. When the screen bloomed with brightness, he noticed in the bottom corner he could see one of Yuri's perfectly pink nipples. God, all he wanted was to get his mouth around that nub. Lick it, suck it, bite it. He bet Yuri made the best noises. Just imagining having his way with that one nipple so it was all swollen and red.

“Fuck.”

Otabek sighed, spilling into his own hand. He flopped down on his bed, doing nothing for a moment but catching his breath. He couldn't bring himself to care at all about the drying jizz on his boxers or the mess on his hand. He eventually leaned over to grab a tissue from his bedside, organizing his thoughts while he cleaned himself up. He measured out his arousal against his guilt, adding in his shame, his need, his worry about maybe ruining his best friendship he’s ever had in his entire life. He got up to turn off the light in his room, sorting out all the emotional math in his head as if any of this was quantifiable. His brow was still furrowed as he slid off his sweatpants and yanked off his shirt, and tossing both to the ground. He was usually good about actually bringing his clothes to the hamper, but this loomed over him with so much weight he just couldn't bring himself to care. Just like he didn’t care about his slightly uncomfortable boxers as he slid under his covers. He sighed yet again, letting his body truly relax and really sink into his mattress. Despite the shaken up cocktail of emotions in side of him still raging, Otabek was able to come to at least one conclusion.  
  
He needed nudes of Yuri.

Like, yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


	2. In Which Victor Oversteps his Boundaries and Yuri goes on a Plisetsky Rampage™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I went a little over board with italics. Also I'm much more comfortable writing for Yuri. i'll try and work on my tone for beka and maybe edit the first chapter once I feel it out!

“Yuri! Where is your head at today!?” Yelled a disgruntled Yakov. Currently, his head is rammed into the fucking barrier after flubbing a quad sal. Which he hasn’t done in like, 6 months. He thought briefly of spitting venom to Yakov telling him exactly that, but bit his tongue. He was trying to scream less, with varying degrees of success.  
  
“I’m taking fucking five.” He muttered, finally, standing up, rubbing his head a little rougher than was comfortable for being nearly concussed moments ago. The dull pain kept him grounded.  
  
“Language, Yuri” Whatever. He made his way off the ice and fumbled with his skate guards a bit before sitting at the nearest bench. Today had been a shit show. Just one of those days, you know? His alarm didn’t go off, he was wearing the same leggings as yesterday while fumbling to get to the rink on time so he wouldn’t have to watch years slip off of Yakov’s while screaming at him. And of course Victor was just in a peachy mood, more obnoxious and clingy than normal and Yuri would pay _anything_ for him to take it down to a fucking nine. He sighed. Yuuri was working on some step sequences so at least Victor was occupied, though Yuri could hear Victor fawning over him from across the rink. He rummaged through his bag and dug out his headphones. He needed some space to himself. He didn’t even care what played, as long as it drowned out literally everyone around him.  
  
He wants to throw something, kick something, do anything to get this tension out. But Otabek had told him recently that he didn’t like when he kicked and screamed. Something about it being unfair to the people around him. Yuri didn’t really care, but Otabek’s frown (not his resting frown, his honest to god ‘Yuri i’m not mad - just disappointed’ frown) was burned in his brain in a way that made him think before his spoke.

  
Otabek would fix all of this right now. Just someone who would really listen to him. Not the way he talks to Victor and can see only half the shit he’s saying stick. Or the way Katsuki always had advice for him. He didn’t want that, he just wanted to vomit out this anger so he can fucking move on.  
  
He quickly unlocked his phone and want straight for his gallery. He aggressively tapped on a folder simply labeled ‘Beka’. A gallery of selfies Otabek sent him. There wasn’t many, but it was enough. He opened one of him next to stuffed bear. They had matching sunglasses and scarves. The Bear even had a resting frown. Just like Otabek. I mean, that’s why Yuri bought it for him.  
  
It started out as a joke. He saw in some random store while shopping with Victor and Yuuri. Yuri texted Otabek a picture of the bear and asked why Otabek didn’t tell him he was in St. Petersburg. Otabek was just as coy back, saying it was supposed to be a surprise. Of course Yuri had to buy the bear and ship the stupid thing to Almaty. It was only reasonable. When Otabek sent the picture with his fuzzy twin, Yuri was elated. He’d never admit it. But, he grinned ear to ear and his eyes glittered like someone had  draped around his neck. Katsuki saw, but was polite enough to give Yuri a soft knowing smile. “I’m glad your happy” It said, without words. Yuri went back to scowling. It was as close to a silent “thanks” he could muster, but he couldn’t help but smile when he looked back at his phone. So Yuri kept buying Otabek stuff. Trinkets, clothes, basically whatever reminded Yuri of him, and he always got a selfie in return so it was worth it. He saved every last one of them.  
  
“Wow~” Of fucking course. A moment of solitude, lost in his head phones and the simulated company of Otabek almost fixing this god awful day and the geezer had to come over and Nikiforov it all up.  
  
“Victor, fuck off” Yuri snarled, taking off his headphones.  “This has nothing to do with you, old man.”  
  
“Oh, no need to be embarrassed Yurio!” Victor was beaming. His energy just exhausting Yuri. “I have _tons_ of cute photos of my Yuuri, here here look!” Yuri groaned, as Victor shoved his phone in his face. It was the most inane shit. Yuuri does the dishes. Scroll. Yuuri petting Makkachin. Scroll. Fucking Surprise, Yuuri ice skating. Scroll, Yuuri straddling- wait.  
  
“What the actual fuck, Victor he’s _naked_ , what is _wrong_ with you!?” Yuri yelped and stood up, shoving the other man away from him. Fuck biting his tongue, fuck the people around him, it was time for a classic Plistesky rampage and nothing was going to stop him. Victor just blinked.  
  
“Is he? Oh oops, sorry Yurio. I was just so lost in his eyes I didn’t notice!” Victor stated starstruck and love drunk, making eyes at his phone like his god forsaken fiance wasn’t 20 feet behind him. Yuri snapped.  
  
“I’m going to kill him.” He muttered between grit teeth. “Hey, Katsudon!” Yuri screamed, loud enough that Yuuri and everyone in between can hear him, “You might want to kiss your boyfriend good bye because his funeral is _tomorrow_ ” Yuri was lucky that Yuuri wasn’t mid jump, because he definitely stumbled in confusion when the younger man yelled. Yuuri scrambled over to where they were, stuttering questions out the whole way. Yuri grabbed him by the collar.  
  
“I don’t know which one of you fucking degenerates is worse.” He spat, shoving him away. “You are _disgusting_ , keep your fucking clothes on” And he saw all the color drain out of Yuuri’s face, quickly re-saturated in shades of red.  
  
“Vitya, you _didn’t_ , those are private, how could you!” Yuuri whined at Victor, looking both heartbroken and mortified at the same time. Victor was of course, still all smiles apologizing to him, insisting it was an honest mistake and Yurio would get over it.  
  
“What’s going on over here, you three are certainly lively.” Mila already looking like the cat that ate the canary. She loved the drama, and Yuri knew this could go either way. Mila was a valuable ally, She was good to have on his side, but she was also a total wild card. Fuck it, let’s gamble.  
  
“ _Victor,_ showed me Katsudon's _nudes_ ” Yuri spoke slowly and to the point, trying to sound as scandalized as he could.  
  
“What, omygod, let me see, I bet they’re cute!” Well, that didn't work. Mila was so fucking weird. Who thought nudes were _cute._ Victor, full of pride was already fishing his phone out of his pocket again before Yuuri threw all of weight on his arm begging him to stop.  
  
“Honestly, barbaric.” Yuri didn’t need to turn around to know Georgi’s nose was in the air. “I would _never_ have something so personal and crude on my person. All of my girlfriends know me to be a _gentleman_ .” Yuri rolled his eyes, almost more annoyed with how pretentious that sounded then what was actually happening around him. At this point they were all just a squabbling mob and Yuri could feel himself on his last fucking straw.  
  
“Oh come on, I was just comforting Yurio! He was embarrassed to have pictures of his _boyfri-_.”

 

snap.

 

He reeled back to give Victor a swift roundhouse to the ass, watching the man topple forward. He was about to step on his fucking back and tell him off again before he felt a hand on his collar, and  sharp inhale like a brewing storm.  
  
“All of you get back to work!” Yakov bellowed, right in his ear. He winced, only barely opening an eye to see Yakov’s face, purple with rage “Honestly, Russia’s finest, arguing like highschooler’s. If you even half as embarrassed as I was now you’d already be on the ice proving your worth. Ridiculous.” Yuri had half a mind to mutter that he was sixteen, so yeah basically a highschooler, but the ringing in his ear was a fair warning to keep his mouth shut.  “Honestly, Yuri Plisetsky, you know better. You better go show me a flawless short program this instant or I’ll tell Lilia that you’re far too distracted and maybe you need sunday barre practice again” Yuri silently conceded. Not that the extra practice was really a threat, but losing his only free day to Lilia again was not something he wanted. He enjoyed being able to take runs, and text Otabek, or even sneak into the studio himself to lazily run through his programs and actually think about what they meant. He needed that freedom.

  
“Yeah, Yeah, let me get some water and show you” he muttered sliding his headphones back on. The rest of the group was dissipating, muttering whatever the fuck to each other as they eased back into routine. He let his short program song play, to get him back into a practicing head space, as he took a sip of water. He sighed and looked down at his phone. He unlocked it, to see twin pairs of sunglasses still looking at him. He couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t stay completely mad if Otabek was around, even if he wasn’t really. He exhaled, quelling his rage to a manageable point before firing off a quick text.

  
**Me [3:33]: Hey, can you come to St. Petersburg? I’m going to murder Victor and I need help with the body.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


	3. In Which JJ Gives Serviceable, but Mediocre at Best Advice

Otabek had been staring at his phone for what felt like eternity. He could tell by the clock in the right hand corner it hadn’t even been 3 minutes. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything beside knit his brow together, and stare at the screen like JJs contact like magic eight ball reading ‘try again later’. He sighed. This was honestly a dumb idea in and of itself, Otabek knew how it was honestly kind of gross that he wanted this so badly. He didn’t want to trick Yuri or manipulate him at all, he just wanted to play a little. to add some kind of 'spice' to their texting routine, anything to make the distance feel less daunting. Otabek honestly didn’t know. What he did know is that he had needed help, begrudging as it may be. This was nowhere near his wheelhouse, but he was sure it was in the vicinity of JJ's.

It was now or never. He took a deep inhale, like he was going to jump into the deep end of an ice cold pool, and tapped his thumb on the phone icon. Each dial tone sent his made his stomach drop a little deeper until he finally hear words.  
  
“Beks! What’s up, I never hear from you how are ya?”  The warmth of JJ’s voice was honestly enough to let Otabek’s shoulders sink to a normal slope, letting the tension in his body ebb slightly.  
  
“Nothing much Jean, you sound like you’re doing well.” Otabek meant it. JJ was a friend to him at a time. They weren’t necessarily close, but his energy can be addictive and his mood infectious. Otabek appreciated that about him.  
  
“You know I always am! But for real. Whats up? I know you don’t call to make small talk.” There was no malice in JJ's voice. He knew Otabek was pragmatic and to the point, he didn’t take offense it to it like he once might. JJ used to think Otabek’s lack of communication to be an insult to his personal character, that Otabek didn’t like him. Over the years he realized he was just.....word efficient.  
  
“Dude, this must be rough. You’re silence speaks volumes Beks. Come on, spit it out, whatever is going I guarantee you can be fixed with some JJ style!” Otabek took back all the nice things he thought about him and considered hanging up. JJ didn’t come without his quirks, and unfortunately JJ's number one quirk is ‘how can I make most things about me’. But instead of going with the instantly drawn up plan A of rudely hanging up, he steeled himself to actually go through with this.  
  
“Jean. You’ve been with a lot women. Have you ever received...personal photos?” He cringed at himself as the words came out of his mouth.  
  
“....You’re asking if I’ve ever gotten nudes. Oh my god, Otabek what the fuck is this about?” There was a tone of honest concern underneath at the condescending laughter. At least Otabek certainly hoped there was. For his pride's sake.  
  
“Yeah, There’s...someone I want to engage in this with. But I don’t know the....etiquette.” The silence that came after this was so thick and heavy. It was had to breath, and Otabek almost felt a little queasy.  
  
“The etiquette, Beks.” It dug into Otabek like being stabbed with a butter knife. Dull. Awkward. Excruciatingly uncomfortable.  
  
“The etiquette.”

There was another pregnant pause. Otabek’s shoulders grew rigid once more, and he contemplates hanging up on JJ again but he knows he’s in too deep and would only make things worse. He swallows the lump in his throat and waits for JJ to reply because right now he’s got nothing.  
  
“There’s no _etiquette_.” JJ sighed. Maybe he read Otabek’s tone and could hear the ‘I don’t need your shit today, Leroy’ left unsaid, because he skipped the mockery phase that was usually standard for any ‘JJ style heart to heart’ they ever had. Comes with the territory. “You just need to make it happen. Flirt a little. Send some suggestive pictures first. Bella loves it when I take some racey gym selfies, I can send some to you if you need inspiration”  
  
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” The only thing worse than having this conversation would to have borderline pornographic pictures of JJ on person. The only thing worse than that would to have someone else know that he did. Out of the question.  
  
“It’s a mutual thing Beks. You need to set the tone. You have to make the magic happen, otherwise the other dude won’t want to.” JJ sounded earnest. Otabek was glad, but he was sure he’d pay for it in spades some day.  
  
“Why assume I’m speaking with a male?” Otabek lowered his tone, trying to keep commanding respect.  
  
“ _Beks._ ” Is all JJ said in response. It was a solid rebuttal, honestly. Because, once again, Otabek had absolutely _nothing_. “It’s fucking Princess Plisetsky, I’m not stupid”. He thinks JJ can feel him wincing from god damn Canada.  
  
“You're so sure?” Steady voice, faux confidence. JJ couldn’t see him so Otabek thinks he’s doing pretty well here. JJ isn’t a lie detector after all. A little false bravado could probably get him out of this  
  
“He’s literally the only person you act with on social media. Might as well be in real life too. Otabek you had his _fingers_ in your _mou_ -” God damnit.  
  
“Alright, alright, I get it.” Otabek should’ve hung up the first time he had the chance. He’s rubbing his temple at this point wracking his brain to find out exactly when and why he ever thought this was a good idea.  
  
“He’s into you, I can tell.” Otabek was suddenly painful aware of his heart beating into his ribs. “I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to play ball. You just have to get it started. I actually think the gym selfie thing isn’t the worst idea. Do you have those grey shorts you used to wear, the one's with the white stripes down the side?” Otabek can _feel_ JJ smirking in his tone. It left him unsettled, completely taken down from the sappy emotional high he allowed himself for but a moment.  
  
“I think so. Why?” Otabek spoke slowly, making sure every last syllable spoke careful and meticulous neutrality.  
  
“Perfect, you can totally see your entire dick in those, I think he’ll catch your drift” Otabek froze.  
  
“ _What do you mean_.” He was only met with the sharpest, cacophonous laughter. JJ always had an awful laugh, it drove Otabek insane. Especially when he was the butt of it, each loud staccato tone rubbing salt in his woulds.

  
“Oh my god, Otabek, you’re kidding me. I thought you were doing it on purpose. Like, some move of dominance or whatever. Like, ‘Woah! Here’ s my giant kazakh dick, hello Montreal!’ Because I DEFINITELY noticed, Beks, at first I thought you were totally coming onto me, that's why when you wouldn't hang out I thought you were an assho-”  
  
Otabek, decided right the, was the perfect time to hang up on JJ. He was an idiot. He was an idiot for ever thinking that was a good idea. He was an idiot for thinking JJ would take this seriously. He was an idiot because he knows JJ doesn’t keep his mouth shut under any circumstance.

He took the note about the shorts, however.

* * *

 

Otabek opened snapchat. He didn’t use it much, but on the occasion he liked to see what everyone was up to. Even if he wasn’t super close to his fellow skaters, he found comfort and pleasantness into getting a glimpse into their everyday life. Even if that glimpse was sometimes Christophe Giacometti's entire ass, he takes what he can get.  
  
He didn’t want to start too strong, it’d be weird. Otabek ‘never in a selfie unless he was pulled into one’ Altin suddenly sending snaps left and right. He texted Yuri plenty, but he hadn’t received any mail from the other recently so he had no excuse. Doing something public seemed more....’natural’. As natural as he could do this. He decided to start with things he always kind of admired. The sunrise over the park on his morning jog, his bike an artsy angle. He even had a rink mate take a quick video of part of his free skate (his coach was so disappointed that Otabek had become one of those types fussing with his phone during practice. He made a mental note not make a habit of it.) Everything tame, nothing to suspect. Except Yuri wasn’t fucking stupid. He got a text around the time Yuri usually gets up, and when Otabek always takes a water break so he can give his friend a undivided attention without interfering with training.  
  
**Yuri [10:08]: Beka, what the fuck**

Otabek wished he had an answer for Yuri. “Well you see, I’m attempting to flirt with you, I’m not quite sure how this goes outside of girls shoving their tits at me in clubs I fucking work at so here we are”. Because that would go terribly well.  
  
**Me [10:10]: Didn’t you say you wanted me to use it more?** **  
****  
**It was tame. It was neutral, it was true. But it _felt_ like a lie and that made his hands feel clammy. Yuri didn’t text back. But saw something in snapchat. It was Yuri smiling back at him laying on the edge the bed, draped over a pile of blankets that threatened to consume his small form. There was some text at the bottom.  
  
**I like it! Send more videos. It's more real.** **  
****  
**Otabek smiled softly as he watched Yuri leave the screen. I guess videos were more ‘real’. Hearing the background noise, the sounds around him, Yuri would get to share all the auditory sensory with him. He could give that to him. Otabek picked up his bags and called out to his coach he’d be back in five and made his way outside. Otabek opened his camera and had it facing him. He fussed with his hair a bit, making sure practice didn’t mess it up too much. He had it planned. Just a quick video, ‘ _Anything for you, Yura_ ’ he wasn’t sure if that was flirtatious or just embarrassing, the line between the two was honestly so blurred. Plus he knew regardless it’d make Yuri smile. So it'd be worth it. Inhale. Start recording.  
  
Otabek barely opened his mouth before he stopped feeling the ground beneath him. Like, no actually couldn’t feel anything under his right foot. He was at the top of a fucking stair case and he didn’t realize because he was staring at himself in his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Of all people. Not the JJ the narcissist. Not Pichit the social media obsessed. Otabek fucking Altin trying to flirt with a boy, was now falling down a flight of stairs and recording the process.  
  
When he stopped feeling the tremors and pressure of every step jutting into some part of his body he slowly propped himself up into a sitting position. Every part of him ached. He feel his left shin swelling. He looked over at his discarded phone, still in one piece thank fucking christ. He palmed over to it, not quite ready to stand all the way up, slapping his hand on the screen. When he finally had a firm grasp on the phone, he felt his heart sink. In his lazy scrambling he sent out the video. Not just to Yuri. To everyone. Esteemed figure skater, Otabek Altin falls down stairs on first official day on social media. Just perfect. He heard his text tone go off. Yuri, of course.  
  
**Yuri [11:45]: BEKA WHAT THE FUCK**

  
He decided to just lay back down on the pavement, swinging his arm over his eyes. He just needed....a minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's 2 pieces of personal inspiration for this part. I recently fell down a fucking flight of stairs in public and it was pretty mortifying. My friend also told me I have the worst laugh in the planet and hated when I laughed them because of it. I thought it suited JJ. Sorry boys!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


	4. In Which Mila and Yuri go Shopping and Manage not to get Kicked out of Neiman Marcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so pleased at how many peopole enjoyed me throwing Otabek down the stairs. You are all the best <3

**Me [4:59]: Honestly Beka you’re lucky that you're not ACTUALLY hurt. What if you had to take off the season because you didn’t know how to fucking use snapchat. I’d never forgive you.** ****  
****  
Yuri frowned at his phone. He was still in awe. This man who lept on BLADES couldn’t handle a single flight of stairs. It’s not that Yuri wasn’t worried or felt bad for him. It was just honestly difficult to wrap his head around.

  
**Beka [5:00]: I am hurt Yura. Your words hurt. My pride hurts.**

  
**Me [5:00]: Oh come on stop being such a little bitch.**

  
**Beka [5:01]: Also this hurts.**

  
Yuri tapped on the picture Otabek sent. He had his shirt pushed up to his collar bones. There was some awful deep purple splotches over the side of his left of his rib cage, the colors were so vibrant they looked painted on. It reminded of testing swatches of eye shadow on the inside of his wrist. It looked nasty but.....

  
God his fucking abs. Otabek looked so good, even in pain. Yuri didn’t even mind that he was staring for the completely wrong reason. Yuri was enraptured with the idea of replace Otabek’s hand with his own. Run his hands over the planes of Otabek’s chest, feel the warmth of his skin. He could feel his mouth go dry as his eyes trailed down and he could the waistband of Otabek’s briefs. He swallowed.   
  
**Me [5:05]: Christ that looks like shit.**  

Yuri knew he was blushing. He bit his lip unconsciously, but the pain was a necessary distraction. 

  
**Beka [5:08]: Tell me about it.**

  
This picture was of his back in the mirror, his hand on the back of his head, shirt completely discarded. There was another nasty bruise near the small of his back. It was insane how in shape Otabek was, all without being too bulky. This was some Grecian statue ass shit that Yuri honestly didn’t have the fucking capacity for right now. He just stared. He knew he should type words. Any fucking words would be good. Just needed to pick one.  
  
“ _Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuri_ ” Mila’s screeching snapped Yuri to reality, quickly locking his phone screen. “You promised you’d get coffee with me, I’m not above carrying you there so get ready” She whined, draping her arms around his neck. Yuri wiggled out of her grasp instantly.  
  
“Okay, fine, just give me a fucking second.” he opened up his phone to quickly key smash something to Otabek.  
  
**Me [5:15]: Stop bitching and get some ice on that shit so you don’t hurt tomorrow.**

Smooth, Plisetsky. He shoved his phone in his pocket with a frown. He had no idea what to do. Was it really so hard to be there for your friends? Yuri felt the only one in world that struggled with it. Whatever. He knew Otabek wouldn’t mind because it’s _Otabek_ and he never minded.  
  
“Hag, you’re paying. This was your idea after all” He grunted, picking up his bag.  
  
“At least you’re a cheap date.” She said noncommittally “I’m close to a free drink on my card anyways. You’re in luck.” She said, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they headed out in tandem.

* * *

Mila returned to their table with two cups. Yuri didn’t even have to tell her what he wanted, she knew by now. He popped the lid of his latte open to let it cool, taking a small bite of the foam on top that had just a hint of vanilla. Mila was busy texting someone so he dragged out his phone, Otabek probably got back to him.

**Beka [5:32]: I left practice early today, my shins were killing me. But yes, Dr. Plisetsky, elevated and iced.**

There was another picture attached. He was sitting with his left leg in front of him .There was a nasty gash over his shin, Yuri winced just looking at it. He was holding an ice pack over it at least, not that Yuri doubted the man could take care of himself. His other leg was casually folded so his feet were touching. He was wearing these comfy looking grey shorts. Yuri’s eyes trailed up his lean thigh to -  
  
“Holy shit Yuri,” When did Mila get behind him. “Fucking get it, girl.” She actually had the nerve to grab his phone out of his hands and zoom in on his crotch.  
  
“Oh my god Mila, don’t be disgusting. It’s not like that!” Yuri reached up for his phone back, but Mila held it out of his arms reach, clearly scrolling back through his conversations. The fucking nerve.  
  
“Um. Yes it is Yuri. Trust me. Guys don’t send pics like this unless they’re trying to get laid. This is not my first rodeo.” She said, resigning Yuri’s phone back to him. He tightened his grip around it, just in case she tried to pull this shit again. “You need tips? I’ve boned like, a quarter of the hockey team at this point.”  
  
“Holy shit, gross, I’m not trying to get _laid._ ” Yuri worked his face into a heavy frown, looking back down at his phone. He couldn’t look Mila in the eyes right now.

“You’re not? Yuri have you _seen him?_ ” Mila had returned to her chair across from the boy, but was still making a goddamn scene, exaggerating her arm movements like it made her points somehow more valid. Yuri still refused to make eye contact.  
  
“I dunno.” He muttered. Could he deny that he wasn’t staring at these pictures of his friend? No. Could he deny he liked it? No. Did he have any idea of how it made him feel. Fucking of course not. But he was somehow sure he could find the answer in Otabek Altin’s abs. Probably.  
  
“Look Yuri. If you don’t get on that I will because _god damn._ Send me those?” She casually sipped her coffee, looking distracted on her own phone.  
  
“NO. Mila, fuck.” She raised her eyebrow at him. Yuri furiously scratched his head.

“Sooooo you want help with this or what?” She tilted the cup back to get the last few drops. It was insane how fast she could drink this shit. Yuri realized he completely forgot his own latte and took a long sip of his own. Mila was completely unimpressed with his stalling techniques.  
  
“Fine. I guess. What am I even doing. What am I being helped with?” Yuri growled. He tried to muster up all the anger he could, but sounded concerned at best.  
  
“You like him right? Like, it’s not a big deal Yuri. You two were literally inseparable in Barcelona. After your EX skate you both looked at each other with fucking stars in your eyes.” Yuri frowned into his latte. Otabek was easily the coolest person he knew. Spending time with him was also his favorite thing he’s done in recent history. Yuri felt like he knew himself better thanks to him. Does that mean he _liked_ him?  
  
“I don’t know, Mila.” He said in a quiet tone, something that felt far too private for being in a coffee shop. Mila gave him a look of genuine sympathy. “I think so.”

“Then we have work to do!” She slammed her hands on the table, turning her mood on a dime. “We need to go shopping. Now.” Yuri simply looked at her quizzically.  
  
“The best excuse to show off your body is new clothes. Honestly, selfies in low cut tops is my bread and butter, never fails. Plus, you have those _legs_ Yuri. I swear you make people question their sexuality whenever we go out. Even the barista has been staring at you Yuri, and I was like.....80% sure he was straight.” She said it rather casually, but Yuri couldn’t help but pout into his latte. Not that he minded that people looked at him, he kept his body in incredible shape and he had the best fashion sense in _all_ of Russia. But he had never really thought about it. Much less using it as a tool for anything other than his own satisfaction. He looked up, Mila was giving him eyes like Makkachin whenever Victor grabbed his leash. Yuri swore he could almost see a wagging tail. He sighed, at least the latte would give him energy for her bullshit.  
  
“Mila I’m not going to say _no_ to shopping, let's get the fuck outta here.” Mila literally jumped out of her seat as Yuri got up tossed his latte cup into the trash. She basically dragged him out of the cafe, but not before he could make eye contact with the barista and give him a quick wink. The boy literally dropped the coffee he was working on and gasped.

  
Maybe this flirting thing wasn’t so hard after all.

* * *

  
Okay, maybe this was the fucking hardest thing ever. At least Mila was making it difficult. This was the third store they’ve been in and he was already exhausted with her. It was nothing like the casual shopping with Otabek in Barcelona that he wished never ended. Maybe because it didn’t feel like a fucking chore and Otabek said he looked _good_ in things and didn’t find reasons to shoot down literally every piece of clothing he put on his body.

“Are you seriously looking at a scarf right now, Yuri.” Yuri audibly groaned, and tossed the scarf back on the table. He didn’t give a fuck that the lone salesperson glared at him. He was beyond over this whole excursion. Mila wasn’t even looking at him, she was far too busy scrutinizing every garment in the store, he had never seen her so serious outside of skating. Yuri thought he was honestly capable of doing this himself. He _always_ looked good. He grabbed some things to try on himself. He wanted to at least attempt to have fun with this. It was _supposed_ to be fun.  
  
“Mila I really like these. I’m going to get them, they’re awesome.” He stepped out of the changing room. He had these awesome leopard leggings on that had like, mesh cut outs that were totally sexy. There’s no way these were a miss.  
  
“Oh my god, no. Yuri.” Her tone was bordering on condescending and Yuri was so close to losing his god damned mind.  
  
“Holy shit, how are these not sexy? The cut outs are suggestive or whatever right? Isn’t that what you wanted?” He knew he was raising his voice. He really didn’t care, the only other person around was that bitchy sales lady anyways who was too chicken shit to do anything but send nasty looks his way. Mila had been prattling on about how he was supposed to dress and Yuri was honestly attempting to humor her and pay attention but nothing seemed to please her and he was getting fed up.  
  
“Your legs look so stumpy. The mid calf hem is so unflattering, and the diagonal cut outs just break up your legs so much. The print is way too loud, you can’t see the shape of your body well at all. Seriously, Yuri. Look.” Mila reached over and physically lifted his left butt cheek to prove a point and Yuri squawked and nearly leaped in the air.  
  
“What is your fucking problem, don’t fucking grope me!” Yuri stepped back, glaring daggers at Mila who was so nonplussed by any of this. He checked himself in the mirror. There’s no way he didn’t look amazing.

She was fucking right. He looked short and they did nothing for his ass. God Damnit.  
  
“Fucking....fine. You dress me, I’m so done. I can’t deal with this.” He sat down, still in the offending leggings. Mila was beaming again, clearly enjoying a sense of victory from his resignation over any creative input for a _motherfucking selfie._ She placed a ‘supportive’ hand on his shoulder. Yuri literally growled at her.  
  
“Don’t worry, little Yuri. I’m here to help.” She raised her hand to rest gently his cheek. She had the smuggest grin. Yuri was dreading whatever came out of her mouth next.

“I’ll turn you into a principal, no! Prima thot!.”

Alright. That was enough.

“I’m actually leaving, and don’t speak to me for a fucking week.” Yuri pushed her away from her, and he could hear her hysterical cackling the entire time he changed and stomped out of the store. He should have never agreed to this. He didn’t even end up buying anything, what a complete and total waste of his time.

* * *

  
Mila had the gall to show up at his apartment. And she was stifling choked laughter and wiping tears away from her eyes. It honestly wasn’t even that funny and Yuri was still really fucking mad about it. But his rage waned slightly when she held out a large, silver shopping bag into his hands. She was still giggling.  
  
“I’m sorry, Yuri, I just....try it on, I think you’ll like it.” She smiled. Yuri thought it seemed semi genuine. He grunted in response, snatching the bag from her and made his way to his bathroom. Mila let herself in and got comfortable, rummaging through Yuri’s fridge as he got changed. Not that there was anything ever good inside, but she always checked out of habit.  
  
Yuri began wading through the delicate tissue paper to unearth the garments. There was a pair of lambskin leggings that looked so tight Yuri questioned if he could even wiggle into them. They had some seam details across the thigh that he definitely liked. It reminded him of the cut outs in the leggings that he liked but didn’t chop up his body so much. There was a shirt to match. It was a simple wide necked white shirt. It looked a little short, but it was some super soft silk, so it would drape really nicely. He honestly...actually really liked it. It was something he could wear with a jacket and be plenty casual and he knew he’d look really good in it too. Maybe he could forgive Mila for all of her bullshit today. He noticed a flash of purple in the bag. It looked to small to be anything worth wearing. Maybe Mila actually felt bad and grabbed the scarf he he was looking at back in the store? God, she really could be a decent friend sometimes. Yuri almost felt bad. He pulled it out of the bag and it was....lacey. Yuri held it directly in front of his face in and gross mixture of horror and aggravation..

“Why is there a fucking thong in here! Mila I’m going to kill you!” Yuri was sure his neighbors could hear her screaming from his kitchen. He couldn’t believe he even _thought_ about forgiving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


	5. In Which Otabek Interrupts Cab Night and Yuri is Left with the Drunken Remains

**Yuri [8:52]: I went shopping with Mila.**

**Yuri [8:52]: She was so fucking annoying but she helped me pick out some nice stuff I guess** **  
** **  
** Otabek was so glad to be at home, because he had to sit the fuck down. Yuri just didn’t look good, he looked stunning. The shirt Yuri was wear was just ever so slightly sheer. It gave his figure a softness that was completely ethereal. It was in beautiful contrast to his pants. The leather might as well have been a second skin for him. It gave his legs a sheen that made their pleasant shape just irresistible. Then there was a matter of his ass.  
  
Otabek would gladly fall down 10 more flights of stair if it meant the opportunity to eat out Yuri after seeing those pictures. He was legitimately beside himself.   
  
You couldn’t just tell people their outfit made you want to eat their ass. Otabek still didn’t have a firm grasp on the etiquette, but he was fairly certain that was part of it. Despite talking to JJ he honestly had no idea how to handle this, he for a brief moment thought about calling him back before remembering how he apparently spent a year in his country with his dick all but hanging out. Then he got a text he from someone he didn’t talk to much at all who might just be the most reasonable source of info for any of this.   
  
**Victor [9:05]: I didn’t ruin things with you and Yurio did I :((((? He still won’t talk to me :(** **  
** **  
** Otabek furrowed his brow. This was unmistakably a poor idea. Significantly worse than speaking with JJ, and that didn’t even go well. But Victor had honestly been the start of all this nonsense so maybe he could end it? Doing anything other than staring at Yuri’s butt for the next 2 hours would probably be extremely productive. Otabek reopened the picture besides the fact he just said that he wasn’t going to. Just a few more minutes of admiring, then he’d do something useful. That’s when Otabek noticed a slight flash of purple above the waistband of Yuri’s leggings. He zoomed in. It was lace. His mouth went dry and he immediately called Victor before his cock could decided what he was going to accomplish this evening.   
  
“Oh, Otabek, is it really that bad, It was an accident I swear, I’d try and talk with him but he keeps ignoring me-”  
  
“No, Victor, it’s...it’s not that, it’s fine. Honestly. I actually called for...advice.” God it sounded abysmal coming out of his mouth. He couldn’t believe this is the second person he has spoken with to attempt to court his best friend. Nothing about this was normal. He felt like he was calling Yuri’s older brother and it made it weirder. Otabek already regretted all of this but he was also pretty sure he would’ve regretted masturbating all night. At least that would’ve felt good, he was honestly sick to his stomach speaking with Victor.   
  
“Oh, are you trying to do a quad flip too? I know Yurio’s sneakily been trying to practice! I know it’s my _thing_ but-” Otabek’s face was scrunched up so tightly. He was getting why Yuri was so stressed out by him.  
  
“No Victor. I..I don’t really know how to say this. I’m...interested in Yuri. I’m trying to express this to him in a...tactful manner." Otabek did his best to ignore how stupid he knew he sounded. It was difficult because he kept on talking. "I know how daunting this can be and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He chose not to leave the part about how he was hoping for sexy photos decidedly off the table. He wasn’t sure how someone who watched Yuri grow up would feel about his endeavor. “I know things went very well with you and Katsuki...I know it’s a different situation, but I thought you might have some input.”  
  
Silence. Otabek had no idea what to do. Had he insulted the man? He knew that Victor and Yuri were rather close (as long as you asked Victor, Yuri would deny it until the day he died). But it was slowly creeping how just deeply inappropriate this all is.  
  
“Yuuri! Love! You will not to believe, Otabek Altin has a _crush_ on our Yurio! Isn’t that just the cutest thing? I’m so excited, I’m putting this on speaker phone, I’m sure Yuuri would love to say hi! What? No, the dishes can wait, this is LOVE we’re talking about Yuuri! Come, come!” Otabek started to tune out the domestic back and forth that was going on. He truly hated this. But he counted his blessings that Victor wasn’t angry at him. He didn’t need the reputation of a uncoordinated dunce as well as sexual predator.

“Oh, hello, Otabek. I hope you’re doing, um..well.” At least Katsuki was polite. Otabek was so excited at least one individual in this whole rigmarole attempted to be a decent human being. Then Yuuri lowers his tone and it makes him purse his lips.  
  
“Vitya, isn’t Yurio a little young for all of this?” the murmurs made him sound like a gossiping housewife and it honestly made Otabek a little mad. Mostly because he was on the fucking phone with them hearing all of it.   
  
“Nonsense, Yuuri, you know I was dating at 13. I was all washed up at Yurio’s age.”   
  
“Oh Victor, you know I hate it when you’re like this.” That at least made two of them, but Otabek for polar opposite reasons.   
  
“Otabek, what if you flew out here to surprise him, that would be incredibly romantic!” Victor was positively beaming. The elation made his tone too sweet and syrupy and it made Otabek’s stomach churn even more.   
  
“I think...that’s a bit much, Victor. I don’t want to overstep my bounds. I also wouldn’t want to...repeat your tactics.” Because if Otabek pulled a fucking Nikiforov and just showed up Yuri would never let him live it down and he probably get a door slammed in his face.   
  
The other end was silent. Otabek guessed that was Victor beginning and end of relationship advice. I suppose if it worked once that’s all you needed. Otabek felt a headache come on.   
  
“Otabek” It was Yuuri this time. He was trying to keep his voice steady. “You know you just need to be honest, right? Tell him how you feel you can work things out you know? It wasn’t as easy as Vitya coming to see me, Otabek. We had a lot to discuss and both work-”   
  
“He made me cry Otabek, it was awful, I almost died!” Victor was somewhere in the background literally screaming. Otabek was quickly reaching the end of this discussion, it honestly seemed like it wasn’t going anywhere remotely helpful. He was starting to feel crushed under the weight of how complex of all these feelings actually were. The gravity of what it would mean for him and Yuri. Which he wasn’t sure of himself. All of this on surface level seemed insane. They both had demanding careers, the distance, they were both so young. Focusing on the asinine simple things like texting, and the fun parts like flirting made this such an easier pill to swallow.   
  
“He sent me a picture of his butt.” That was probably not the best way to divert the conversation in a way he would like. Killin it, Altin. Great work.   
  
“Not my SON!” Victor was still screaming, he sounded farther away somehow. He was getting morbidly curious as to how the night was going over there. He was fairly sure Victor was not remotely sober at this point.   
  
“Victor, honey, you know he hates it when you call him that. You are not old enough to be his father. Calm down, please no- oh could you fill my glass while you’re over there?” They’re both drinking. Splendid. What could possibly go wrong. Or what could possibly go worse, at this point.   
  
You know what, Fuck it.   
  
“Yuuri.” He spoke with all the exhaustion he was trying to stifle. “When did you get comfortable with sending nudes to Victor.” He heard Yuuri choke on his wine, while Victor let out an excited gasp.   
  
“It took him FOREVER Otabek, you wouldn’t believe. And I sent him the BEST photos. Perfect lighting, very flattering. They were art!” The pure level of drama was honestly not unexpected. Otabek was braced for it. But he was just not sure how much more he could take.   
  
“Honestly Otabek I have never....I couldn’t. I was very drunk.” Of fucking course. “Vitya was so bold and it really wasn’t in me. But you know how I can get.” Yuuri laughed in a nauseating mixture of embarrassment and inebriation. Otabek was kicking himself for doing himself so wrong. He made this bed and here he must lie.   
  
“You know who could give you great advice about this? Chris, let’s dial in Chris. Yuuri, love lemme see my phone.” Otabek could hear more giggles from Yuuri across the line and some sloppy wet noises. He sighed audibly. He knew they wouldn’t hear him as they were already with the arduous multitasking of drunk dialing Victor’s best friend as well as making out.   
  
“And what do I have the _pleasure_ of joining you two? I know it’s cab night, I’m surprised you’re both dressed.” Otabek shuddered. Chris was doing that _thing_ where his tone was purposefully suggestive and he just wanted no part of this.   
  
“Oh I’m not, Chris. But that’s besides the point.” Fantastic. Otabek could’ve lived without the status of Victors pants. “Otabek is here, say hi Chris, anyway. He has a _crush_ on Yurio and they’re sending each other naughty pictures!” Otabek couldn’t stand the way Victor emphasized crush every time he said it, like it was the most scandalous thing he had ever heard. It made something throb in the front of Otabek’s head. He rarely experienced this kind of anger, he was very good at keeping calm. But this was driving him slightly insane.   
  
“Oh, Otabek, how are you. You didn’t hurt yourself too bad, yeah?” Chris sounded patronizing and it made his head throb even more.   
  
“I completely forgot to ask, I’m so sorry Otabek how are you feeling?” And to bring up the only other thing Otabek wanted to talk about less than what was happening. He heard Yuuri gasp.   
  
“Otabek, I’m so sorry. You had me scared half to _death-”_ He wasn’t going to stop.   
  
“I’m fine.” End of conversation. Otabek hoped. The silence afterwords between the four of them was oppressive. Victor cleared his throat.   
  
“So Otabek was asking my Yuuri how he started sending things to me, and I figured if there was an expert on the situation it would be you.”   
  
“Oh yes of course. My nudes are rare but legendary” Bullshit. Otabek can name at least three times he’s seen his _entire ass_ on social media and he didn’t even check that often. “I will need some basic info though, Otabek. Do you shave? We’ll need to frame it differently depending.” Otabek was absolutely not ready to describe to several skaters in his league the state of his pubic hair. He really needed to stop putting himself in these kinds of situations.   
  
“Honestly, it shouldn’t be too hard regardless. With a dick like yours you have a lot of room for error. I don’t think anyone would really look beyond it.” Alright. How the fuck was this common goddamn knowledge.   
  
“Oh, good for Yurio. Do you think it’ll be too much for him Chris?” Victor asked it so plainly. Like he was asking Chris what he fucking ate for dinner or something. He took a very a uncharacteristic page from the Plisetsky guide book and threw his fucking phone across the room.   
  
Then promptly felt super childish and embarrassed and went to go collect it.

Otabek thanked his lucky stars it wasn’t broken and the call ended. It was really a blessing. He held it close to himself for just a moment, mentally repeating to himself that he could never do anything like that ever again. He had the money to replace it, but it was just incredibly immature and he remembered times when Yuri broke his phone and how lonely his days were without him until he sorted it out. He heard his text tone and immediately felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t responded to Yuri yet and he hoped he wasn’t mad.  
  
**Christophe [9:58]: You left so soon <3 <3 <3 My parting gift!!!!** **  
** **  
** **10 TIPS YOU NEED BEFORE DEFLOWERING YOUR VIRGIN BOYFRIEND, NUMBER 3 WILL CHANGE THE WAY YOU FUCK!!!!!!**   
  
It took every fiber of Otabek’s being to keep his phone in his hand.

* * *

  
To say Yuri was losing his mind was an understatement. He was tapping his phone to check for notifications almost every fucking minute on the minute. Otabek was not getting back to him and he was getting increasingly livid as time passed by. What the fuck did he do wrong? He looked _amazing_ and those leggings along cost almost $2,000 and he (Mila) didn’t spend that kind of fucking money to be _seen at 5:56 pm._

**Me [7:01]: Mila he isn’t getting back to me what the fuck do I do**

Not that Yuri really trusted Mila’s advice even a bit at this point, he needed to do something to keep his hands moving because he was getting so antsy and it was at least something to fucking do.   
  
**Hag [7:05]: Busy Baby <3 Good Luck!!!!** **  
** **  
** She included a selfie with sheets pulled up to her collarbone and Yuri could see the muscular back of fucking _someone_ in the background. Great. Mila couldn’t help him get laid anymore because she was getting laid. Yuri could hear the echo of his own voice telling himself that was not why he was doing this and now he had fucking egg on his face and a pit in his stomach of the realization he was trying to _fuck Otabek Altin._   
  
He couldn’t really take it back from himself. He guessed it was fine. He wasn’t really sure what to fucking feel much less what to fucking _do_ and he was already in way too deep. He just wished Otabek would respond so he could have something tangible for of all of this.   
  
Yuri sighed and scrunched his brow, staring at his reflection of his damn no notification having phone screen. Then it lit up.   
  
**Old man [7:15]: Yuuuuuyio otravekwbhss a crisdhh on yoy!!!!!** **  
**

What the actual fuck. Victor has not been this drunk in a long ass time (two weeks). Yuri had no patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was going to entail. He hoped Victor was at least home. The last time Yuri had to drag him and his gross fiancee out of one of the nicer french restaurants in town because Victor decided he wanted to dance.   
  
Somehow Yuri got banned from there too. He couldn’t remember why. He didn’t really care, he never liked the place.   
  
**Me [7:18] : Holy shit Victor, have your pig collect you. That’s not even close to words in any fucking language.**

At least talking to Victor was a distraction, albeit one he assumed was going to seriously inconvenience him. Katsudon was probably taking care him, he had a good habit of not getting completely fucking wine wasted when Victor was being this belligerent.   
  
But, of course Yuuri was calling him so that was a not a great sign.   
  
“Yurio.....I am completely wine wasted.” Oh my god. “Can you...please, come over? And bring food? Vitya and I didn’t even get to start dinner.” Yuri had half a mind to throw his fucking phone. Tell off Katsudon, and teach them a life ass lesson about responsible drinking even if just out of pure spite. “I’ll owe you one Yurio...please?” Well that was exploitable. Yuri wasn’t doing anything except being far too aware of every second of Otabek not responding to him. At the very least he’d be able to berate these gross idiots.   
  
“Yeah give me a half hour. And you seriously owe me one, this is not a joke Katsudon.” He hung up his phone before Yuuri could even thank him. Yuri was fairly certain that even this would be less agonizing than waiting for Otabek. Who, after all this time still did not respond and they were officially fighting.

* * *

Yuri had been here for not even five minutes before realizing this is significantly more agonizing than literally anything. He opened the door to Yuuri struggling to get pants on to Victor (Thank fucking christ), and Victor literally so excited to see him he was _literally_ _crawling_ away from his fiancee. 

  
“Yurio!” Victor didn’t even noticed he kicked Yuuri in the jaw as he scrambled over and pulled himself up to rest his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. He was so close that Yuri could smell the wine on his breath, it made him drop the bag he was holding. Victor was grinning far too wide, and his eyes weren’t focused on anything particular. He stared at Yuri for long moment before attempting to whisper something to him like it was the most delicate secret.  
  
“Otabek wants to be your boooyfriiiiiend.” He drawled out the word _boyfriend_ thick like a long pour of whatever acrid overpriced wine they had been drowning themselves in all night. Also, what the fuck.  
  
“What are you even talking. You’re drunk and delusional.” Yuri shoved Victor away and his center of balance was so far gone, that he fell backwards on  his ass and simply laughed about it. He turned expectantly to Yuuri who was still massaging his jaw but only gave Victor a hurt look, which Victor certainly didn’t have the clarity to understand.  
  
“Tell him, Yuuri, tell him!” He leaned back to rest his head in Yuuri’s lap. “It’s all true.” Yuuri stayed silent and kept his hand on his cheek.  
  
“Well he didn’t say _boyfriend-_ ”  
  
“He told us! He told us, and Chris was there, and his dick is huge!” Yuri was trying his very best to tune as much of this out as possible because drunk Victor said a lot of shit and - _did he just say his dick._  
  
“Oh my god you are fucking disgusting and I’ll KILL you.” And Yuri lunged. His knuckles white around Victor’s collar and he had the gall to look surprised by this. He was not above murder. The second murder attempt on Victor’s life this week, he was going to set a new record.  
  
He felt the ragdoll weight of Katsuki against his ribs (He was gaining weight again, Victor needed to stop spoiling him) and the velocity was enough for him to release Victor.   
  
“Yurio, no, It’s something that Chris said, I think he heard it from someone else, It’s probably just a rumor- oh are those Katsudon Pirozhki? You’re an angel! Vitya, come eat, you are going to be so miserable tomorrow.” Yuri couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t control the fucking drunk Katsuki-Nikiforov Hurricane nor could he stop the storm of fucky emotions that was rumbling deep in the pit of his stomach. He was mad at Victor and Yuuri for being barely functional. He was mad that Mila was ignoring him. He was mad that there were rumors about Otabek’s fucking dick. And he was _really_ mad that Otabek hasn’t texted him literally all night.

 _Boyfriend._   
  
Now that Yuuri and Victor seemed to be completely distracted with eating and crawling all over each other and generally being gross, Yuri walked away mostly unnoticed until he slammed the door to Victor and Yuuri’s room. He could hear Victor prattling on, nearly scratching on the door like a poorly behaved Makkachin but he tuned it out.   
  
Victor had this gaudy as fuck full sized Victorian mirror right across from their bed. He stared at his angry face for a minute before pulling out his phone once again. Still nothing from Otabek. Fuck this. He’d get Otabek to respond one way or a-fucking-nother. He wriggled out of his leggings, letting them dangle off of his foot while he striped the loose shirt in a single fluid motion. He kicked the leggings away and had to really stare at himself to see how fucking _dumb_ this was. He was wearing nothing but that stupid lace thong that Mila got him. He could barely fit his balls into the thing and it was awkward and lumpy and definitely objectively aesthetically unpleasing. He turned around, and ran his hands along his backside. His ass did look good though. Otabek didn’t need to know about the awkward parts.   
  
He crawled onto the bed. He briefly had a flash of Katsuki’s fucking nudes in the same place and it made him even more uneasy but he was already this far and he’d never forgive himself if he bitched out because of Katsudon. He gently rested on his knees, back the mirror. He looked over his shoulder, changing the angle of his back and limbs ever so slightly until he could see curves and edges he wanted to. He can’t believe he remembered all that dumb shit Mila had told him. He holds his camera over his shoulder and tried to give ‘bedroom eyes’, not that he knew how to fucking do that but Mila kept mentioning it. He at least tried not to look angry or uncomfortable. The way lace was sitting did frame his ass in a really good so he tried to focus on that rather than how _asinine_ this was.   


_Click._  Perfect. He quickly folded his legs to get comfortable and mashed Otabek’s contact.   
  
**Me [8:38]: Asshole. Respond to me**

He attached the picture and sent it immediately. And he was waiting again. On Victor and Katsudon’s bed. In a lace purple thong. Everything about this made waiting so much more acutely painful than before. But his phone flashed and Yuri’s heart soared.  
  
**Beka [8:40]: Yuri we need to talk.** **  
** **  
** _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe the overwhelming response to this silly little thing. I can't thank all of you enough from the very bottom of my heart. I'm truly touched!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


	6. In Which Drastic Measures are Taken, and These Boys Actually Have to Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so sorry it's be a literal actual non exaggerated decade since I updated. My fun muse is out of the fucking building so it's been hard to get to this! But I tried, and it feels off to be but. SHRUG.

_ Yuri we need to talk. _

 

Yuri couldn’t talk. Talking was not an option, not on the table not even close to the god damn table, not even in the house. Yuri Plisetsky had never felt more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Worse than Onsen on Ice and JJ taking his golds rolled together. He had legitimately ruined his relationship with his only friend. He felt so stupid. He knew he should’ve trusted his gut, friends just don’t send nearly naked pictures of themselves. He knew it deep down in his heart. But he had just enough foolish hope stoked by Victor and Mila of all fucking people that he let it cloud his judgement. Yuri sighed. Pulling the covers over his head. He couldn’t sleep to save his life. He stormed from Victors and went straight to bed. He didnt even change. But no matter how hard he screwed his eyes shut he couldn’t find peace.

  
He just wanted Beka to like him.    
  
And now he wants to die. He couldn’t face Otabek again. He couldn’t suffer through the quizzical and disappointed stares, they way his brows would furrow in a certain way that just added so much weight to the already crushing shame. The idea of making eye contact with Otabek twisted his guts up in a very real sense of nausea. Yuri had to do something to stop feeling like he was going to vomit all over his down comforter. He opened his phone to delete Otabek’s text. It was a start, he didn’t have to see it anymore.    
  
He tapped Otabek’s contact info. His mouth felt dry, his heart was beating out of his chest. Yuri couldn’t talk to him again anyways. Things could never go back to the way they were. It would be easier this way. With a shaky hand, he made his choice.   
  
  
  
Yuri tossed his phone away, only briefly wondering if he set an alarm before deciding he didn’t care. Yuri curled himself into the tightest ball he could collapse himself into. Somehow this didn’t make it any easier to sleep. His nausea did not ebb.   
  
And he was definitely not crying.    
  


* * *

 

Otabek’s heart fell straight out of his chest the next morning. He was doing is normal social media rounds (check Yuri’s twitter, check Yuri’s instagram, check Yuri’s snapchat story.) to find that Yuri had blocked him on  _ everything.  _ Just like than, in an instant. Otabek had no idea what he could’ve done to upset Yuri. Nothing was adding up. In a rare moment of panic, he knee jerked called Yuri. Talking wasn’t his strong suit, but he had to do anything. Yuri was clearly upset and that is the last thing he ever wanted. 

One dial tone, then straight to voicemail. Even his number was blocked. He was completely shell shocked, a little bit hurt. But mostly scared. This wasn’t like Yuri at all. Yuri attacked all of his problems head (and usually fists) on, guns blazing. To just stop wasn’t like him in the slightest. He wasn’t sure what to do. Otabek couldn’t remain passive anymore, no more calls, no more advice, he was ready to do the first stupid idea that came to his panic rattled mind.    
  
So he pulled fucking Nikiforov and bought a plane ticket to St. Petersburg.

 

* * *

  
Otabek, realized in the airport after he landed, he had not thought this through at all. Even the slightest bit. In fact, this may be one of the most foolish things he had done in his entire life. Which is something was almost impressive seeing as he fell down a flight of stairs trying to flirt with a boy in the past week. There was no way he could navigate the city. The very few times he’s been to visit, it had been a total whirlwind, and Otabek himself was completely swept up in Yuri. Far too much to drink in any of the surroundings.   
  
And now he's in the eye of the storm between a McDonalds and a Starbucks and he really wasn’t sure what his next step was. There was a handful of people he get in touch with to help him with this, and that was honestly mortifying. What was more mortifying that the only person who’s actual number he had was Victor’s. This was just possibly the worst situation possible.    
  
Otabek was getting real sick of getting anxious over calling people. This whole ordeal was such a mess. He let out a form melting sigh as he tapped Victors contact info, and screwed his eyes shut and winced at each dial tone.   
  
“What on earth did you  _ do to him _ .” Victor hissed through the phone. And, yeah that’s just about what Otabek was expecting.   
  
“Victor I  _ don’t know. _ ” He tried not to sound as exasperated as felt, but his voice definitely cracked. “Is he doing okay, have you seen him?” He knew all of those were pretty dumb questions. Clearly Yuri was in fact not okay, and Victor knew that because he saw him. He didn’t even have the emotional capacity to be concerned about how stupid the stuff coming out of his mouth was right now.   
  
“He flubbed a quad sal  _ again _ , and tore up his glove doing a beilmann before Yakov sent him home. He didn’t even yell, Otabek.I haven't seen him so....down in a long time.” Otabek winced. Even not knowing exactly what he did to Yuri he just felt so completely so abysmal. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Yuri and he managed to do just that.    
  
“Victor...Can you bring me to his apartment? He blocked my number. I don’t...want to...I just, God. I want to make things right.” Otabek ran a hand through his hair. “I never wanted to hurt him Victor. You know that.” He heard Victor sigh on the other end of the line.

 

“What gate are you at?”   


 

* * *

  
Otabek had never seen Yuuri Katsuki look so utterly cold in his entirely life. He drove up to Otabek with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. His face was more taut and strained than Otabek had even seen it. Yuuri didn’t even say anything, only looked at him. Yuuri didn’t motion for Otabek to get in, Otabek only alerted by the soft click of the automatic lock. Moved to put his carry on in the trunk, before awkwardly shifting into the passenger seat. The mood in the car was so densely heavy. No sound but the soft rumble of the engine, and the oddly stagnant air.    
  
“...Thank you, Yuuri.” Otabek said simply. Yuuri twisted the side of his mouth slightly.    
  
“I don’t know what’s going on here, Otabek. But I’m very disappointed.” Yuuri kept his eyes forward as he spoke, slowly navigating his way out of the airport. Otabek wasn’t surprised, if Yuri was shaken like Victor said, of course they’d be defensive. Yuri was like family to them, and every interaction was making Otabek feel more and more guilt heavy.    
  
“I don’t know what got him like this, Yuuri. Honestly. I woke up and he just....cut me out. I’m scared.” Otabek looked out the window, focusing on passing street lights. Anything quick and quantifiable to ground him. He did really enjoy being this candid with Yuuri, but he was all coiled up with nerves and seeing Victor and Yuuri be legitimately concerned because they thought he hurt Yuri- or that he did hurt Yuri. It was so much. This whole escapade got far too real to fast and the debris of failed plans was becoming suffocating.    
  
“I don’t know how I hurt him. Christ, Yuuri, I  _ like _ him.” Otabek moved his head to his hands. “I flew across the continent without a plan. God he’s probably going to be mad at me for doing this.” Otabek pushed his hair back, moving to focus on the road again.    
  
Yuuri sighed. “He’s probably just scared. Maybr more than you.” He kept shaking his left knee, and tapping one of the fingers on the wheel. “I just worry for him. You know how he just goes into things head first, I don’t think he knows where he’s headed right now.”   
  
“I know.” Otabek’s tone was somber. “I hate it, and it’s not like him.” Otabek mused back to barcelona. To cool breezes on the beach and night, to feeling closer to Yuri than he ever had before. To working all night because he wanted to see Yuri skate something so raw and naked and uniquely him. The fact that he was almost actually naked was also, a delightful bonus. This wasn't the time for that though.   
  
“Talking to Yuri was honestly one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.” Getting the nerve and setting the plan was the hard part. But just being with Yuri, and how natural and organic it was to become close to him? It was as easy as breathing.    
  
“I don’t have anyone like that. I can’t lose that. I’m not sure if I could go back to life without Yuri.” He scratched the back of his head, softly.    
  
“He’s precious to me.”   


The car moved to a slow a stop. For the first time during the entire conversation, he offered Otabek a smile.    
  
“Good luck, you know this won’t be easy.” Yuuri gave him a slightly sympathetic look. Otabek simply nodded in response.   
  
“Probably not. But it’ll definitely be worth it.” Otabek could see the glint of approval in Yuuri’s eye, and he couldn't help but feel relieved. He didn’t owe Katsuki anything for all intents and purposes. Despite jokes he wasn’t part of Yuri’s blood family, but he was part of a family of Yuri’s. A family Otabek wanted to be a part of as well, so feeling close to Katsuki was comforting.    
  
And that was the only thing comforting. Otabek could feel his heart beating out of his chest with every step up the stairs leading to Yuri’s floor. He knew he was shaking, and he knew it was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t tremble before getting out on the ice, or in front of a crowd at a gig. He was the Hero of Kazakhstan, he was a mischievous bad boy. And he might throw up on this door while telling a boy he liked him. He inhaled deeply, raising his hand to knock, he was still shaking. This was going to have to do. He knocked, 3 times, a little loud for the empty hallway.   
  
Yuri opened the door, scowl already on his face. Otabek watched his expression shift so many ways in a split second. He also saw him reel back to slam the door shut.    
  
“ _ FUCK _ .”    
  
Otabek, in yet another brilliant moved, wedged his arm between the door, knowing full well there was a 100% chance of a sharp Plisetsky based pain. But it certainly wouldn’t be the first and Otabek wouldn’t let it be the last. He hissed slightly, trying to play it off as cool as he possibly could. He figured he was probably seeming as cool as he did anything recently, which wasn’t very much.   
  
“God, Beka, you idiot, are you okay?” Yuri immediately changed his tune, seeing his friends forearm start to swell up. Hot tears were forming in the corner of Otabek’s eyes, the kind that were a direct nerve reaction and you had no control over no matter how hard you tried.    
  
“Fuck, god, let me get you some ice. Jesus fucking christ. I can’t believe this.” Yuri stomped over to his kitchen, seeming very put out for almost breaking his friends (former friend? God, this shit was weird) wrist. Otabek reluctantly, let himself in Yuri’s apartment. He took very tentative steps, like a cat who had just gotten home after a vet trip and couldn’t remember if they were in a safe space or not. He felt especially pathetic cradling his throbbing arm.   
  
“You had to tell me off SO BAD you flew your stupid ass to Russia. You’re a god damn piece of work you know that?” Yuri had enough heart to let him in, but it still had heat on his tongue and venom in his veins. He threw the ice pack at Otabek, overhand. Otabek was basically expecting this, so he caught it with little trouble.    
  
“Tell you off?” Otabek cocked his head quizzically, holding the ice pack to his arm. Yuri looked so completely and totally unimpressed.    
  
“Don’t fucking play dumb. I know I fucked up, I don’t know why you have to rub it in. I gave you your out, too. You could’ve just moved on, and gossiped about me to....fuck, who do you even talk to? Oh god don’t say JJ. Fucking JJ.” Yuri was pacing around, hands waving frantically as he went on his tired, barely stopping to take a breath. “I can hear him now, ‘I can’t believe Princess Plisetsky is such a slut, not like us  _ Kings  _ saving myself for marriage like the celibate fuck I am, never mind the fucking  _ tramp sta-” _ __  
__  
“Yuri.” Otabek stopped, briefly moving the ice pack from his wrist to his head, getting a sympathy pain from from the frantic energy he was emanating. 

“What are you talking about.” Otabek tried his very best not to sound frustrated. He did basically invade his home he had to play his cards carefully.   
  
“ _ We need to talk _ ” Yuri spat at him, with taunting air quotes. “I let everyone around my convince me that....” And Yuri stopped. He stopped pacing, stopped talking, and looked up to Otabek completely defenseless for once. Standing very raw and suddenly looking very small. “Whatever. I get it. Friends don’t send friends pictures of their butts. I fucking get it.” Yuri flopped on his couch, grabbing a cushion close to his body. He couldn’t look Otabek in the eye any more and the fire of his words was simmering to just an ember.    
  
“Yuri....you thought the picture was a problem?” Otabek hoped he didn’t look quite as dumbfounded as he felt. He slowly walked over, sitting on the opposite end of Yuri’s couch, letting his gaze wander over to Yuri, who was peeking at Otabek in the corner of his eye, not as subtly as he thought he was. He brought the couch cushion closer to his face.    
  
“Yuri....the reason I wanted to talk was because I  _ liked it _ ” Yuri’s cushion was on the floor.   
  
“ _ What” _ Yuri looked absolutely disgusted, and Otabek swallowed.   
  
“Um, I thought you looked.....nice. I thought that’s what we were doing? Maybe I’m bad at flirting,” Otabek winced a little bit, looking at Yuri become more and more irate looking. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all, he’s so furious. Otabek suddenly felt so  _ wrong  _ for everything.   
  
“You bet your sweet fucking  _ ass _ , you’re terrible at flirting! Beka what the  _ fuck.”  _ Yuri was standing again, pacing and throwing his arms up. “You know what good flirting would be? ‘Wow Yura, that outfit is really nice, you look so good’ _.  _ What the fuck happened to ‘eye’s of soldier’ smooth talking Otabek, that’s the one I fell in love with, not this dorky awkward....” Now they were both just staring at each other, mouths agape. Otabek dropped his ice pack. The word hung in the air, and the stagnant silence was oppressive.   
  
“I-I mean, god. I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this is Beka, I’ve never done this shit before. I just...I want you to like me and think I’m pretty? Handsome? I don’t even know that.” Yuri mashing his palms into his hands and let himself fall to the floor, clumsily landing on his butt.    
  
“Yuri.” Otabek’s voice was steady, but Yuri refused to look up, furiously nodding his head. He felt Otabek’s hands on his shoulders and screwed his shut. 

“Yuri, look at me.” He slowly moved his hands down, looking up at Otabek with a lump in his throat and disappointment making his eyes look like marbles. 

“I just got on a near 6 hour flight because I hurt your feelings. To say I like you is an understatement.” He looked Yuri dead in his glassy eyes, and watched them crinkle as he started laughing softly.   
  
“I guess. I dunno.” Yuri leaned back, resting his hands against the floor, leaning back into a more relaxed posture.    
  
“You nearly broke my arm and I’m not even angry.” Yuri laughed again, this one a much more sharp cackle. It made Otabek’s heart flutter, even though the noise itself was harsh and angled.   
  
“I dunno Altin. Still not convinced.” Yuri gave him angled eyes, half lidded, trying to remember what Mila taught him. He smiled, trying to be coy, but he felt the muscles on his face spread too far and he knew he probably just looked goofy. Otabek sighed, and lowered himself from the couch to the ground, meeting Yuri at eye level.   
  
“I guess I owe it to you.” He took in a quick breath, hoping Yuri couldn’t see him try and steady himself before closing his eyes and leaning into Yuri. He moved as quickly as he could, while still being meticulous and careful. The moment their lips met, he couldn’t help but gasp. It was so soft, barely there, but he felt Yuri melt into him. Otabek needed more, just a few more moments of this softness. He ran his hands down Yuri’s arms, not asking for more or less from the kiss. He just wanted to feel, to finally have a physical descriptor this this closeness. Yuri made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and Otabek pulled back. He was beaming, and his eyes literally sparkled. Otabek reached out, brushing a hair behind Yuri’s ear, letting his arms drape over his shoulders.   
  
“You really do have the eyes of a soldier.” Otabek murmured, and he couldn’t help but swell with pride when he saw the softest dusting of blush on his cheeks. He gave Yuri a confident smirk, leaning even closer, so he could slide his hands all the way down Yuri’s back, and grab two plentiful handfuls of his butt.    
  
“But your  _ ass _ though,” Which is all Otabek got before Yuri punched him straight in his stomach. He laughed, breathlessly. No really, the wind was knocked out him. Yuri could throw a punch, and Otabek made sure to note that. This was going to be the start of something very good.   
  
“Beka.” Yuri asked softly, glint in his smile that always made Otabek both exhilarated and terrified.    
  
“Did you bring those shorts?” 

This was going to start of something  _ very, very  _ good.


	7. In Which Yuri Tries to Prove He Can Be a Romantic, Promptly Ejected From High End Restaurant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said one more, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut can't stop won't stop

It was so easy to fall into normalcy with Otabek, like nothing had ever changed. Otabek had to apologize profusely to his coach for fucking off to Russia, and Yuri had to call in his favor to Yuuri (Which he didn’t even remember, but ‘it sounded like it happened’) to convince Yakov to have Otabek at the rink. The kicker was he managed to convince Yakov that the arrangement was intentional.

Totally Intentional.  
  
So it was super easy to pretend that everything was on purpose. They’d skate together, have private moments of laughter on the furthest bench from the ice. Yuri kept his phone mostly in his bag and when Victor had to tease him about his change of habits Yuri had to throw _his_ phone as a substitute. Even Otabek laughed audibly when Victor wailed like Makkachin rushing after it. It was just like old times. Which was fine.  
  
But it wasn’t great. They stopped at a local cafe on the way home. Not the same one he went to with Mila. This one was slightly out of the way, but the few times Otabek had been in St. Petersburg they made it a point to go. Yuri wasn’t going to break tradition. The thought that they were falling back into ‘friend’ traditions made his _extra_ vanilla latte (with extra extra whip) taste sour on his tongue. Sure, they kissed. Which was basically a non-verbal contract that they were totally boyfriends. But they didn’t really talk about it since. They even slept in the same bed, but the moment Yuri turned the light out Otabek was knocked the fuck out. Nothing would wake him either, Yuri tried aggressively tossing and turning, and nope. Dead asleep.

So even after everything was said and done, nothing got accomplished. He was at square one and he still didn’t know what to fucking do.

“Hey Otabek.” He opened his giant trap anyway. Otabek looked up from blowing on his cup of coffee. Yuri was almost down to nothing but melted whipped cream and Otabek hadn’t even taken a tentative first sip of his black sludge.

“Tomorrow’s our free day.” Yuri drained what’s left of his drink, and tosses the cup into a nearby trash. “I’m taking you on a date.”

Otabek sputtered into his lukewarm beverage. 

“Um,” he responded kind of dully. “That...sounds nice.”

Yuri was so sure there was a slight blush on Otabek’s cheeks because he could feel the heat on his own and the sensation made him want to crawl under the sticky table a little. 

“Where you taking me?”

If Yuri didn’t know better, somehow he forgot he’s talking to Otabek ‘Can’t catch a hint with a fuckign net’ Altin. Because that sounded almost flirtatious. Almost. But Yuri knew better.

“Can’t tell you. Surprise is part of the romance.” Yuri gave his best cocksure smile. He tried to make his eyes smolder, or whatever the fuck you were supposed to do to look alluring.  
  
“I never thought you’d be romantic.” Otabek smiled, taking a long draw of his coffee.  
  
“Oh yeah. I can do romantic. There’s a lot you don’t know about me Altin.”

There was a sparkle in Otabek’s eyes. Something like late night Barcelona sea foam. The glint that made madness, and Yuri got a headrush from putting that spark in Otabek.

If he had any idea of what the fuck he was actually doing.

* * *

Yuri [7:30] : I’m going to preface this reminding you that I saved your LIFE from alcohol poisoning. This was also not the first time I’ve done this. You owe me a life debt, Nikiforov.

Old Man [7:31]: omg Yurio what did you do

Old Man [7:31]: Is there a body involved, I need to know so I can mentally prepare Yuuri

Yuri [7:32]: holy shit stop

Old Man [7:33]: Are you drunk, it was good of you to get in touch with me, that is the responsible thing to do

Yuri [7:34]: LIKE YOU CAN TALK

Yuri [7:34]: I just need to ask something if you could

Yuri [7:34]: Not.

Yuri [7:34]: For like 3 seconds.

Yuri [7:34]: And don’t you dare screen cap this Nikiforov, I know where you keep your sex toys and I am not above tossing them all out on the fucking rink for you to collect.

Yuri frowned at his phone. He had the shower running for a solid minute now, and he was so sure that Otabek would worry that he’d drowned if he had to do this back and forth with Victor all goddamn night. The fact that Victor got quiet was probably a good sign. He sighed. Might as well get it over with.

Yuri [7:37]: Alright. Look. I need dating advice.

His phone was immediately ringing. Of course he couldn’t keep this to texts, and against any better judgment Yuri picked up the phone.  
  
“Look,” he hissed, hoping the shower spray would drown his voice out.  
  
“Yurio, I’m just so _proud_ , I was hoping for this day to come! Honestly it was a little touch and go there for while!”

Yuri could fucking hear his stupid dopey grin through the phone. He took a deep breath, suppressing every violent urge (Otabek told him that ‘knife shoes’ stopped being funny the more he said it) to just grit his teeth. Exhale. He could do this.

“I just need ideas, something I can muster for tomorrow.” Yuri pulled his knees up to the toilet seat, hugging them close. He could hear the vulnerability in his own voice and it made him uncomfortable.  
  
“I already texted my florist, Yurio, don’t you worry.”

Yuri groaned audibly, this was going just as expected and he just kept on walking into this fucking trap.

“Gonna be honest. That worries me.” Yuri had to rub his temple.  
  
“I just need _advice_ , please don’t do anyth-”  
  
“Reservations at that cute french place _I love_ , for 8, I can’t believe they had something. Amazing!”  

Yuri hoped Victor could hear him slam his head against the tile wall of the bathroom, but he just kept prattling on.

“Yuri, are you okay?” But of fucking course Otabek heard. The knock on the door made Yuri fumble with his phone, the clattering on the ground all too loud. Yuri wanted to hiss and curse so bad as he worried about scuffing his case _and his fucking screen_ , but he had to be cool. He could be cool.

“Oh, yeah, no. Perfect I just dropped.....” Yuri looked around, trying to think of anything he could logically say happened. “.....something.”  
  
Nailin’ it.  
  
“Okay. Are you almost done? I need to use the bathroom.”

Yuri winced, he wasn’t even _wet._  

  
“Yeah, just....give me a minute, Beka.” He swore he could _hear_ Otabek frown and it made his stomach drop a little. He quietly scuttled to grab his phone, letting out a breath when he saw his screen wasn’t damaged. He could hear Victor _still_ talking. He wasn't sure if he even noticed he was gone.  
  
“....The limo will be there at 7, and I sent a text to the sommelier, Otabek can drink right? Does Otabek drink? He should, the pairings are to die for.” Yuri didn’t even know what the fuck a sommelier was but at this point the damage was done. Yuri was going to have to _own_ this and somehow and twist Nikoforov’s brand into his own.  
  
So he was fucked, basically.

He hung up his phone without ceremony, and stuck his head under the running shower water, clothes still on. His hair was going to dry funny without shampoo and he was already regretting every part of this whole ordeal. If he spent another minute in the bathroom Otabek would think he drowned himself. 

When he finally opened the door, he was face to face with Otabek staring at him from the couch. His raised eyebrow asked every question Yuri knew was in his head.  
  
“I had to wash my hair.” Yuri could tell Otabek wasn’t buying it. “Just....let me get you a towel.” He just tried to walk by and Otabek grabbed him by the wrist.

Yuri wanted to so badly to avoid Otabek’s gaze. But he could feel his eyes on him and he couldn’t deny Otabek that. Yuri could give him the attention he wanted without having to say a damn thing. He whipped around, and shoved his tongue into his mouth. The undignified noise Yuri got in return almost made him forget about how nervous he was for tomorrow. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Yura.” Otabek’s smile made Yuri feel like melting straight into the carpet of his apartment. He did everything to remain upright as Otabek turned to the bathroom. He totally had this, he could get through this. He was Yuri Motherfucking Plisetsky, gold medalist. He could handle a _date_.

“Yuri,” Otabek leaned out the door, a gorgeous dripping vision leaning out of the bathroom. “I forgot about that towel, can you grab me one?

Yuri could barely grab his jaw off of the goddamn floor trying to find his reflection in Otabek’s glistening pecs.  
  
“Mmhhm.” He couldn’t manage words. Not even one word.  
  
Yuri was definitely fucked.

* * *

Yuri was trying his best to braid his own hair into something “date worthy” when he heard his doorbell ring. The sound was more upsetting than the sticky sensation of his hair between his fingers, he really regretted not washing it. He doesn’t know anyone who would actually ring his doorbell. He only ever had two guests- Mila and Victor. Both of which were much more apt to hitting and screaming than they were to do anything remotely courteous.

“God, Beka can you get that? I’m in the middle of something.” Yuri yelled through the bobby pins he was holding in his teeth. Otabek didn’t need to say anything, Yuri could hear his footsteps and it said enough. It might be as simple as answering the door, but it was one of the reasons he liked Otabek so much. He said so much without having to be annoying about it.

Yuri fussed with his hair as much as he could without completely messing it all up. He frowned in the mirror. His braid wasn’t even. He couldn’t wear his favorite shirt because Potya fucking vomited on it. They were going somewhere “nice” so he had to tone it down. Nothing really felt right and he was still standing in his apartment. Yuri didn’t see it getting any better. He adjusted the collar on his chiffon leopard print button down (and yes, this was his idea of toned down) before moving out to meet Otabek in the hallway. 

Otabek dressed up? Forget about it. He looked almost as good without the leather jacket as he did with it. The button-down fit him like a second skin, and he had one too many buttons undone on it. Yuri wanted to take the rest off with his fucking teeth. Otabek kept the sleeves rolled up and it was honestly making Yuri a little warm.  
  
It was a _shirt._  
  
But what really surprised Yuri was that he was holding this vibrant bouquet. Sunbursts of bright oranges and reds that were seemed even more striking against Otabek’s monotone wardrobe.  
  
“Yuri.” His tone was completely unreadable. Yuri could only stare blankly at him. God, Victor did mention a florist didn’t he? What a stupid idea. Who actually liked getting flowers besides Victor?

“How did you know I liked lilies? They’re beautiful.” Otabek’s face softened and Yuri would kiss fucking Victor’s feet if it meant seeing him like that more often.  
  
“Told you I could do romantic.” Yuri smirked, closing the distance between them. Otabek’s softness gave him all the boost he needed to make sure he could really make this work. Otabek looked him up and down, and Yuri did his best not to falter.  
  
“You look so nice, Yura.” His voice got softer, as if he was worried someone could intrude on this moment meant for them.  
  
“You clean up pretty alright yourself, Altin. He leaned up for a soft, chaste kiss.

Yuri was so happy they were _kissing_ . After the few days of seemingly nothing, Otabek was finally starting to feel like an actual boyfriend. It was really starting to sink in how real this all was, and Yuri couldn’t keep a smile off his face. Until he heard another knock on the door. Yuri moved to answer it this time, he was greeted to mother fucking _Georgi_ looking like a god damn waiter in a themed restaurant and it took a lot for Yuri not to knee-jerk slam the door.

“Ah, fair lovers, I’ll be your guide for this night of romance! Now, you’re chariot awaaaah--” Yuri grabbed him by the cheap polyester lapels of his stupid suit.  
  
“You’re going to leave. You’re going to give Victor a warning. If anyone bothers me tonight I swear to god every ounce of spare energy will go into tormenting you.” Yuri shoved him out into the doorway, where he was still sputtering.  
  
“Got it?!” Yuri snarled, just for extra measure before slamming the door.” God he was still angry. Yuri actually trusted Victor to not completely blow this for him. Just one modicum of restraint from Victor to not make this a fucking 11. That was foolish. Yuri felt foolish.  
  
“...You didn’t order the flowers, did you.”  
  
“Shut up and call an Uber.”

* * *

The restaurant was just the worst. They were both somehow underdressed, and every word Yuri spoke seemed so loud despite the bustling atmosphere. Every time he opened his mouth he could feel the eyes of basically decrepit couples burn holes in his skull and it was making his blood simmer. He didn’t want to boil over. Not on his date with Beka. Who looked just as uncomfortable. It made sense though. Their relationship was reactionary. Yuri spoke, Otabek listened. Yuri would build momentum, Otabek kept it rolling. So with Yuri at a dead stop, what was he supposed to do. Yuri needed to give him something. Anything. It was his job, his emotional labor. 

“So, when do I get to see your dick?”

Otabek choked on his water, and grew hot under not only Yuri’s gaze, but the dirty glares literally every other living thing in the restaurant. He was pretty sure even the plants were getting upset with them.

“I’m serious!” God! Yuri knew it wasn’t the right thing to say but it was the only thought he could grab out of his brain right then. 

“Like, I know it's a _thing._ You know why? I heard from Victor. Who heard from Chris. Who heard from _JJ._ ” Yuri started mashing his finger into the table. The sommelier was cringing deeper with the raising of Yuri’s voice. They had politely declined every bottle thus far, but he came back with a pairing for each course. Yuri kept talking as he cleared his throat.  
  
“I swear to god Beka, if you tell me that JJ mother fucking Leroy has seen you naked before me I swear-”  
  
“Uh, we have a full bodied,” He coughed. Otabek made eye contact too intense for any kind of wait staff under any circumstances.

“We’ll take the bottle.” Otabek kept his tone steady, but shifted his gaze to Yuri. The sommelier gladly uncorked the bottle, and just left it on the table for them. Otabek poured himself an extremely generous glass for himself. He kept his eye contact steady with Yuri as he drained it.  
  
“Can we not...here?”

Yuri looked at Otabek’s face. It was a toss up if the color in his face was from the wine or  Yuri’s words. Whatever, it was something they’d have to deal with at some point. Otabek wasn’t going to be here for too much longer, it was better to get it over with!

“Okay, but _why_ does the entire skating community know about your alleged giant dick?” Yuri took a messy chomp of the veal in front of him, but it didn’t stop him from talking. “Everyone but me I guess? We’re best friends Beka. _Boyfriends_ .” He saw Otabek pour another glass of wine for himself, and for some reason it made him even more angry.  
  
“Yuri, I promise we can talk about this, I just--” Otabek saw a tiny old lady wearing a hat larger than she was talking to someone who worked there. She wasn’t very subtle and pointed right at them. “Once we’re home. Promise.”  
  
“Excuse me, sirs.” A man approached their table, who was so stiff it made Yuri fall deeper into his slouch out of sheer spite.  
  
“It seems the nature and volume of your conversation may be bothering some of our other patrons. If you could be so kind as to take care of your tab, we’ll be happy to box this up for you.” Oh _hell_ no.  
  
“You can’t kick us out. We didn’t _do_ anything.” Yuri stood up, staring straight up at the man between the eyes. He didn’t even seem like he was looking at Yuri. More like straight through him.  
  
“This is discrimination. You didn’t offer us the opportunity to reform our behavior.” Otabek spoke firmly, and only a small part of Yuri was surprised. Beka might be quiet, but never a pushover. Besides, there was no way in hell Yuri Plisetsky would ever have a boyfriend who wouldn’t stand up for the both of them.  
  
“That’s right!” Yuri slammed his hands on the table, standing up. He felt larger than fucking life, and with Otabek behind him, nothing could possibly go wrong. 

* * *

So getting kicked out of a restaurant was probably not a great first date. Yuri wasn’t sure about protocol, but he was taking a shot in the fucking dark that it was bad hat. He and Otabek wandered away slowly, Yuri frantically thinking of what he could do to pave over this fucking disaster when it starting pouring out of nowhere.

  
Of course it was pouring. Why would anything go smoothly. Yuri wasn’t even asking for smooth at this point, he just wanted a step above dumpster inferno.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Is all Yuri could offer. He looked up to Otabek. His cheeks looked flush despite the chill of the rain. He saw his form swaying a bit. God. He was fucking drunk.  
  
“Yura,” It came out as one garbled syllable, “Can I kiss you?”

Otabek already had his arms on Yuri’s waist. Yuri squirmed a bit. He liked being close to Otabek. He liked the way Otabek’s hair got all fluffy curly, unstyled by the rain. He liked seeing the drops dangle from from the longer strands on his hair and slide down his cheek. 

But he was also freezing and his hair was destroyed.  
  
“Beka, c’mon. We gotta get home.” Yuri could only half push him away, he physically couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted this. Otabek already had his lips sloppy on his cheek, hands slowly working to paw at his ass. Yuri’s head was spinning. How was this the same man who could barely flirt with him? Yuri could feel the heat rise to his cheeks and, god, with Beka’s hand on his butt he could feel it start to pool near his dick.

"I’m serious, these boots are designer.” He couldn’t deal with this right now.  
  
“ ‘m sorry. You’re just so warm. I want so much of you. My Yura.”

Yuri was only human. He tried so hard to find the will to pull away. But all he wanted was to peel Otabek out of the clothes that had no business clinging to his body like that. Otabek leaned into him more, and Yuri couldn’t help but get lost in the sensations. He was rain fresh scent, the comfort of the weight against him. Oh so much weight. Oh god he couldn’t hold him up. It was seconds before Yuri was flat on his back, Otabek right on top of him. So much for these fucking clothes. 

“God fucking damnit. Are you okay?” Yeah, there was frustration in his voice. But in his literal position he found it pretty warranted. Otabek only grunted in response, lifting just enough to stare directly into Yuri’s eyes. He literally glistened in the street lights. Yuri’s will was dwindling swiftly. He tried to sit up, and immediately went rigid.  
  
Yuri finally understood why there was so much to do about Otabek’s penis.

“Alright, I need you off of me right now, I need to get us a fucking Uber home.” Yuri could hear these tiny little sounds that seemed ridiculous coming out of Otabek but oh god he needed to hear more of them as soon as possible.

Preferably not in a puddle in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless Thoughtsappear for helping words. It means the world to me that you help me so much!!!!


	8. In Which Otabek and Yuri finally get to Attempt Intercourse, Sectional Damaged in Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's to all of you that made it this far. This was the first fanfic I in a literal decade, and the only time I actually stuck with it. I've made so many friends through this fandom and I'm so incredibly thankful for every experience I've had since June. Every comment has made me smile, and I've reread them over and over again. 
> 
> Please enjoy and thank you for everything!
> 
> Extra special thanks to Softieghost and Thoughtsappear. They have been endlessly supportive and incredibly constructive and push me to be the best I can be. I absolutely love you two. Thank you so much for everything!

Yuri contemplated never getting out of the shower. Ever again. Renowned Gold Medalist, Yuri Plisetsky Retires at the Ripe Young Age of Who Gives a Shit Because he Drowned in Own Shower. Even that seemed less embarrassing than the string of bullshit that happened tonight. He was probably going down as record holder for Worst First Date Ever. He couldn’t even lock himself in his room with Potya and sulk about it, because despite aforementioned ideas of drowning - he had to face Otabek at some point. Part of him still kind of wanted to try and get laid. He kept flip flopping on owning the shit show with a brand of confidence that at least might get him some dick, or bow down gracefully.  
  
Yuri didn’t bow, and anyone who’d seen him off the ice knew he wasn’t graceful. He yanked the shower knob to the off position, wringing his hair just a degree softer than something actually painful. He wrapped the towel around his waist and took a deep breath. He was ready for war.  
  
Yuri stomped out with the kind of purpose when he means to cause a scene. He needs the bravado to get out into his living room and face Otabek with any amount of momentum. Yuri was braced for battle, menacing steps and brave faced. He steeled his resolve, sharpened his tongue to use as a weapon to get his way and claim his spoils.  
  
Yuri wasn’t ready for a battle field scattered with bargain pack tea lights, and what appeared to be the finest bottle of wine that the corner store could offer. Otabek sat in the center, with a bashful look and cupcake with neon pink frosting that you could smell the chemicals wafting off.  
  
“We didn’t get a chance to make it to desert.” Otabek offered, eyes focused on Yuri. His voice sounded as deadly serious as a man with a tiny pastry could muster. He looked to his foot, for just a moment, before returning eye contact to Yuri. “Our date can’t be over if we don’t have desert.” Yuri had his defenses stripped. He came in on rampage that was diffused as fast as it was started with no spark, no grand finish. Just an indignified yelp as he grabbed to keep his towel up.  
  
“Let me....pants.” It was as good as anything else he had to offer tonight.

* * *

 “So, mister sommelier-” Yuri stumbled over the word, and couldn’t help but snicker at himself, taking a sip of the saccharine wine. Yuri didn’t know much about alcohol, but this reminded him more of cheap artificial juice boxes than any of the earthy, pungent things that Victor and Yuuri drank. “Tell me about what we’re drinking, How does it pair with our elegant....” Yuri tried to find the words to keep up his bit, but by any indication of his flush he wasn’t at his sharpest.  “.....dessert this evening?” Yuri held his mouth open, sticking his tongue out just a touch begging for confection. Otabek didn’t miss a beat to give him a forkful of the fluffy yellow cake.  
  
“Well tonight we’re enjoying,” Otabek had to grab the bottle and twist it around to read the label. “Ah yes, the illustrious _Sweet Red Blend_ . All of the fruity notes pair elegantly with the high fructose corn syrup. The full body really highlights the _fun_ in the funfetti sprinkles.” He kept his eyes half lidded, and his smirk stayed on his face even after Yuri giggled cupcake crumbs all over the both of them. He washed down the rest of his bite with the end of his wine and grinned ear to ear.  
  
“This is so much better, Beka. You are way better at “romantic” than I am. I’m leaving this stuff to you from now on.” Yuri was already reaching for another cupcake as Otabek drained his own glass.  
  
“Please don’t keep me to any standards. I just felt bad about...everything.” Otabek moved to pour Yuri another mug full of wine. He knew he shouldn’t indulge him too much, but Yuri’s smile was so free and frequent. He was far too weak for it.  
  
“But I’m having so much fun Beka! We didn’t have any fun when it was up to me.” Yuri grabbed his mug with both hands, and chose to flop against Otabek before taking another sip. They had both taken the time to get into T-shirts and sweatpants, something more suited to eating cupcakes on the floor than the evening attire they were previously wearing. Yuri wasn’t sure what he liked more. Otabek dressed up looked like he should be in magazines, but the Otabek right here, with slightly flushed cheeks and sweatpants low on his hips? He looked just as good, and was a version of Otabek that was for Yuri and Yuri alone. It made it much more special.    
  
Yuri’s brain was comfortably fuzzy, like waking up to TV static. He gently put his mug to the side. He didn’t need a deep breath like he was diving into the deep end, he didn’t need a dramatic pep talk telling himself that getting dicked down was like _war._ He could simply straddle Otabek like he was made to fit there.

So he did.  
  
He grinned, his face inches away from Otabek’s, before placing an open mouth peck to his lips. Then another. Then Otabek had his arms on the small of his back, and his tongue grazing Yuri’s lips in a way that made his body pliant and melt into Otabek. Yuri kept the pace up, trying to find angles where he could eliminate all the space between them and be as one as possible. Otabek was left breathless, his lips slightly shiny and swollen. With the warm glow from the tea lights, Yuri understood exactly how romance was supposed to work now. He was drunk, and giddy and so excited that someone was able to redeem this night.  
  
“I felt your dick against me earlier.” Alright, so maybe the romance thing was a work in progress. He was making strides though, for sure.  
  
“Yura,” Otabek breathed his name natural as air. Yuri couldn’t help but lean into him more.  

“I want to fuck, Beka, come on.” Yuri bounced in his lap for a moment before standing up tugging at the collar of Otabek’s shirt. “Let’s go to bed.” Yuri’s grin was all alcohol and confidence, as he started a bit too fast to his room.  
  
“Yura, careful of--” Otabek could barely start, before he saw Yuri kick a small cluster of his (incredibly romantic but perhaps not so practical in hindsight) tea lights. Before Otabek could even begin to ask Yuri if he was okay, he could smell the tell tale sign of a _mistake._ Otabek stood up quickly, and he could see a small glow on the corner of Yuri’s throw rug and something had to be done pretty fast.

“Shit, shit, shit, god FUCKING damnit.” Yuri shook his foot while frantically scanning the room for some kind of answer to this problem in the way that a tipsy panicked brain did. His eyes landed on the the wine bottle and Otabek immediately worked in double time.  
  
“Oh my god, Yuri, no.”

* * *

 Yuri was face down in his bed. Maybe he could asphyxiate himself in his pillow. The headline kept changing tonight. Astounding Athlete and Worlds Worst Boyfriend Smothers Self After Abysmal Date Became Arson.  
  
Otabek was sweet though. He brought Yuri another cup of wine in his favorite tiger mug after dousing his living room in water. He told Yuri to ‘just relax’ which was very loose code for ‘I’ll let you sulk because this is incredibly embarrassing, I think we both need a moment.’ He could hear his footfalls as he moved around Yuri’s living room, trying to fix whatever damage was caused and removing any fire hazards left around. The steps got less frequent, and louder. Yuri sighed, sitting up. He took one last hurrah gulp of wine before Otabek walked back in the room. Yuri opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. All they could do was stare at each other.  
  
“Fuck, Beka. Can you just...” Yuri didn’t even need to say anything, Otabek moved to sit next to Yuri, softly rubbing his back.  
  
“It’s okay, Yura. We both weren’t at our best today. What’s a small house fire between friends?” Otabek leaned in, placing a small kiss on Yuri’s cheek. He still had that too sweet acrid scent of wine on his breath. He probably had a glass for himself. It was warranted after dealing with a fire. “I still want to have sex. If you’re okay with that?”  
  
Yuri didn’t even bother with words, he rested his hands on Otabek’s face, and slid his tongue into his mouth. Gone was any of the build up from before. He wanted to get back to their pace, he wanted to get this going and just feel good _now_ . Yuri wasn’t even close to being hard, but he was going to make this happen.  
  
He almost burned his house down. There was no way he wasn’t getting laid tonight.  
  
He rutted against Otabek, gently easing his soft cock over Otabek’s thigh. He hoped to rectify the situation soon. Luckily Otabek had a firm understanding of where he was emotionally, because he didn’t shy away from grabbing at his dick. Otabek’s fingers felt uncertain. Not like he was nervous about what he was doing - but uncertain if he wanted to revel in the shift weight of Yuri’s hardening cock or if he’d rather play with his balls. Yuri knew that the noises he was making were by no means attractive. Whiny needy sounds that he wasn’t even aware he was capable of. Yuri knew they were bad, but he couldn’t even care. Otabek’s hands and tongue felt so good. He let his limits ebb away, loose himself to the sensations of Otabek. His fists were balled in his T-shirt, face in his chest just to be closer to his smell. Yuri had never done drugs, but he felt like he could get high off of _this_ . Off of Otabek.  
  
“Yura.” The desperation and pure need for him was chocolate thick in Otabek’s voice. He could feel the same pull of need from Yuri. They were working on the same frequency, feeling in tandem. It gave Yuri such a rush, to understand someone and feel their heart in turn. He really felt like, as cheesy as it was, he understood what love was in this moment.  
  
“God, I want you to fuck me so bad,” Otabek murmured, holding Yuri close to his chest. The record in Yuri’s mind didn’t just fucking skip, it cracked in two.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Um.” Otabek faltered. His hand was still on Yuri’s crotch, but with less enthusiasm. Yuri prayed that the shock wouldn’t make him go soft. “I really want you to fuck me? Isn’t that what you wanted?” Yuri knew he looked as dumbfounded as felt, because Otabek’s eyebrows slanted into an angle that read nothing but confusion and shame.  
  
“I...I um.” Yuri inhaled. This was a conversation he never even thought he’d have to have with Otabek. “I thought you were going to fuck _me._ ”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They both stood for a moment, awkwardly mid-hug with Otabek’s hand still on Yuri’s only semi-interested junk. They both cringed slightly as they sucked in silence together. Otabek finally took his hand off Yuri to run it through his hair.  
  
“That’s....okay. That’s fine. I can do that.” Otabek looked more like someone who was asked to work overtime rather than have sex with their boyfriend for the first time.  
  
“Are you sure Beka? We can work something out-”  
  
“No, I mean it. It just wasn’t my expectation.” Otabek leaned in, nuzzling his face into Yuri’s neck. He let out a hot breath that tickled Yuri’s ear, and he tried not to shudder as he ran his tongue over the shell of his ear. Yuri couldn’t help but let out a whiny gasp. “I’d love to feel you that way, Yura.” It was so personal, it made Yuri’s knees fucking weak. It was insane how Otabek still had this effect on him.  
  
“You really never thought of fucking me?” Yuri had to ask. He had no idea why his and Otabek’s math were so radically different.  
  
“It’s not that.” Otabek placed a wet kiss on Yuri’s neck. “I just thought that’s the way you like it so um. It’s the way I always imagined it.” There was a light dusting of color on Otabek’s cheeks, and Yuri had to grin from ear to ear.  
  
“What else have you imagined?” Yuri purred, cocking his head with half lidded eyes. Otabek was still blushing, but smiled back in turn.  
  
“Get undressed, and I’ll show you.” The timbre of Otabek’s tone vibrated down Yuri’s spine. Any amount of wavering in his dick’s interest had been decided, it was in full support of this situation. Yuri didn’t waste a beat to pull off his shirt. When he rested his hands on his  leggings, he faltered for just a moment. Even if he knew he wanted this, no fucking question, there was still this small mental hurdle of being so intimate with Otabek. But God, he couldn’t wait any longer. He yanked down his leggings, struggling a bit to get them over his feet.

* * *

 “Yuri....” Otabek only stared, didn’t dare touch. Yuri was so rare and precious, belonging in an exhibit of the finest art. Seeing Yuri’s hard dick pressing away what little purple lace was on his body was an image that was priceless and would be hanging in the museum of Otabek’s mind for days to come. He was beautiful.  
  
“Flip over,” Otabek spoke firmly, and Yuri complied with no words. It almost pained him to pull the thong off Yuri, he looked so fantastic and doing anything to interfere with this beauty seemed absolutely criminal. If it was then lock him the fuck up because there was nothing Otabek could to to peel off the last bit of lace that was the barrier between him and the only thing he wanted in this world more than gold.

Otabek thought he might have a small heart attack. Yuri’s ass was perfection. His skin looked warm and pink in the low glow of the lamplight. Otabek had to reach out, and dig his fingers into each cheek to affirm that this was real, and not one of many Yuris he’d conjured up in his mind time and time again. He was fascinated at his fingertips disappearing into flesh, and spreading his cheeks apart was a life changing experience. Otabek gasped, and looked on in complete rapt, as if Yuri Plisetsky’s asshole was a lost wonder of the world, as if it had all the answers for him.  
  
“Beka...” Yuri’s voice broke, Otabek wasn’t sure if it was on desperation or confusion. There was a begging tone though that he couldn’t ignore, and he had to cash in a promise he made himself. He gave himself one last wanderlust gaze into Yuri’s ass while he mentally prepared himself.

Inhale. Exhale. Eat ass.  
  
“Holy _fuck._ ” Otabek had to grab Yuri’s hips, he writhed against Otabek, tangling limbs in the sheets. But Otabek couldn’t let Yuri squirm away. He finally got a taste of the deepest part of Yuri, and he wouldn’t let go until he ate his fill. He licked Yuri from sac to hole, swirling his tongue around in rapid changing tempos. A fast, fast, slow to elicit warbling moans from Yuri that were by no metric attractive. There weren’t pretty or sexy, but it was a sign of Yuri out of control, an audio cue that Otabek was doing everything right to make Yuri melt under his tongue, into his hands.

“Oh my god, ohmy,” Yuri gasped. “Holy shit you hafta stop. I’m gonna cum, Beka please.” Admittedly, the _Beka please_ only wanted him to take more from Yuri, to unravel him more. But he had his whole life to tease Yuri, to see his pouting face after making him cum. Tonight he was here to give Yuri what he wanted.  
  
“Lube?” Otabek punctuated the question with a kiss on Yuri’s right butt cheek. Yuri flopped himself over, careful not to kick Otabek in the face as he unearthed the tube from his dresser drawer. He shoved the bottle in Otabek’s hand while he shoved his tongue down his throat. It was all in a fluid movement, before Yuri turned to prop his hips up onto a bed pillow.  
  
“I’ve fingered myself a lot.” Yuri flushed, but there was still sharpness around his eyes. “So like, don’t...worry about it?”  
  
Otabek merely hummed in responses, coating his fingers generously in lube. At least what he thought was generous. He kept his gaze steady, as he placed the pad of his finger on Yuri’s hole. He felt Yuri shiver and he hesitated.  
  
“You’re really beautiful Yura.” He murmured, stretching his body to steal a kiss before dipping his finger in tentatively.  
  
“Can we not when my fucking ankles are above my hea-ahhh, oooh. Oh Beka.”  Otabek watched the changing shapes of Yuri’s expression. Any fire on his tongue instantly turn to steam. Otabek kept reaching inside of Yuri, trying to rub against every part of him he could. Yuri was biting his lip and his brows were angled in a way that showed his desperation. Otabek didn’t wait for a command to put in another. Yuri let out more breathy gasps, soft little moans that didn’t sound like any kind of noise Yuri was capable of. Otabek liked it quite a lot. What he liked more were the screams he got when scissored his fingers apart.  
  
“Oh fuck, yes, Beka, more.” Yuri squirmed around his fingers, shifting his hips to get any kind of friction. “Seriously Beka, another. Wanna fuck real bad.”

Who was Otabek to deny? He drenched more lube over Yuri’s hole before squeezing another finger in. Otabek had his gaze locked on Yuri and was no less pleased than to see his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Otabek ran a hand down his side, attached his mouth to a nipple. He was feeling drunk off every sound that reverberated through Yuri’s body. Never mind the near liter of wine he’d probably ingested by then.  
  
“I’m ready.” Yuri’s voice was so small, Otabek was by no means convinced Yuri was _actually_ ready. But he probably wasn’t either. But it was something they both wanted so so so very badly. He was going to have to get ready.  
  
“You sure?” He asked anyway, trying to show a mild amount of concern as he fished a condom out of his discarded pants. He grabbed his dick by the base and worked it with lazy flicks of the wrist. He saw Yuri staring at the motion _very_ intently. “Yura.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah I’m fucking ready. Sorry your massive fucking cock is so distracting.”  Yuri had his own cock in hand, stroking it as he moved his eyes back to Otabek’s. “I am.” Yuri scooted closer to Otabek, throwing his arms around his neck and giving him a barely there kiss. Something so soft and chaste, Otabek wasn’t sure if it made him feel guilty or want to fuck Yuri even more. It was now or never. He carefully lined up his dick against Yuri’s hole, pushing in just the slightest bit to see if there was any resistance. Just that one brief centimeter of Yuri’s insides was so white hot, Otabek was worried he’d be consumed whole. He bit his lip, and pushed in further. Otabek could feel each stretch of resistance. He could feel every part of Yuri, and it left him lost for fucking words. Yuri made him feel every goddamn cliche, he saw fireworks, he felt colors. All of that bullshit.  
  
“Holy shit Beka.” Yuri was flushed, breathing hard. His hair was damp and stuck in front of his eyes. He never looked more fucking gorgeous.  
  
“Holy shit, Yura.” Yuri smiled at him, something sweet and at an angle that Otabek hadn’t seen. The fact that he was still finding new faces and sides of Yuri was so exhilarating. He wanted more. Otabek began tentatively rocking his hips, and each roll forward earned him a syrupy moan in an octave too high. There was something clunky and raw about Yuri’s reactions. Otabek was almost embarrassed that he felt himself falling for Yuri over and over and over again. Just because he was finally balls deep in the boy.  
  
“Beka, more. It feels so good, I’m so fucking hard Beka, holy shit.” Repetitive babble was falling from Yuri’s lips. Not quite sweet nothings, not quite needy but a unique brand of want-need-pull that Otabek could understand so well. It was everything that brought him here to St. Petersburg, to Yuri’s home, to Yuri. It emboldened Otabek. He kissed harder, thrust faster. He’d give Yuri all of the physicality his body craved. All of the sensuality he’d deny he needed. Otabek was breathing heavier, noticing the sweat glistening on his arms. He was going to make sure Yuri never forgot this moment.  
  
“Yuri,” His name was a breath. He never stopped moving his hips at this now demanding pace. “Yuri I love you.” It came out like an explosion. It was an awkward clunky release, but god did it feel good. It was an emotional orgasm.  
  
Or just an orgasm.  
  
Otabek stayed stock still, squinting slightly at something off to the side. After his body and mind confession, he found it harder and harder to look Yuri in the eye.  
  
“Beka I love you too,” Yuri rushed out, the syllables mashed together. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Yuri raised his hands to Otabek’s face demanding attention. The contortion of absolute guilt blanketed by a flush of pleasure could only be confusing at best, he figured.  
  
“I came.” Otabek spoke in almost monotone, the words hard to choke out.  
  
“Oh.” Yuri frowned slightly, and it made Otabek cringe. The last thing he wanted to do was to make this night end irrevocably _bad._ After everything that happened, if he didn’t make Yuri cum they might both be boyfriendless by morning. He saw Yuri motion to wrap a curious hand around his own dick, as if to question what to even do in this scenario.

“I could suck you off,” Otabek offered, sliding out of Yuri, and moving to lay at his side.

“Or...You could do me?” Yuri raised an interested eyebrow. “I know that’s not what you hoped for, but--”  
  
“I want to.” He sat up in bed, looking down onto Otabek’s form. He seemed so tall, back as rigid as his cock. It was demanding in a way that threatened to make Otabek hard again.  
  
“Let me, try that thing, turn over Beka.”  
  
Otabek was positive he could recount the details of the night, in painful excruciating detail. The number of petals on his lillies Victor apparently bought for him. The exact temperature when they got kicked out of the restaurant. The amount of paper towels he used to try and clean up the mess in Yuri’s living room. At this moment though, he could describe the evening to anyone and say it was the best date of his life.

* * *

Yuri, very new to physicality, was already completely overwhelmed. Not in a bad way, but his head was swimming with all these new sensations rattling around his brain he felt like a starving man at a buffet of the finest foods. He couldn’t decide what he liked more, Being fucked by Otabek, Otabek’s tongue on his hole, fingering Otabek open and getting to hear all those barely there breathy sighs - He supposed it didn’t matter. Yuri got to have it all and he was going to gorge on the sensations of Otabek’s body. Even though it didn’t matter, Yuri was pretty sure that being balls deep in Otabek was up there. At least top three.  
  
“Yura, how are you so good at this. I think I can cum again,” Otabek’s voice was sounding more ragged, his words wrapped in gasps. ”Can you, Can you wait? I want to cum together.” He tilted his head back, and Yuri could see the pleading in his eye, the flush on his cheeks. Otabek could have asked Yuri to run to fucking Kazakhstan to grab something he forgot in his apartment. Waiting to orgasm was something he could manage.  
  
“Of course Beka.” Yuri pulled out slowly, entranced at watching his own dick emerge from inside Otabek. Seeing his exposed tip made want to shove himself back into Otabek almost on instinct, but-  
  
Wait.  
  
Yuri had to grab his dick for a moment, just to make sure he was processing what he saw correctly. It was warm, hard, heavy and decidedly condomless.  
  
Motherfucker.  
  
“Um, hey, Beka. Babe.” Ugh, why did he say that? It sounded so forced from his own mouth. “Can I finger you a little more?” He could feel his whole body shake, but he hoped his voice was steady enough that he wasn’t suspicious.  
  
“Can you blow me? Just something to help so you can cum inside of me.” Yuri had no idea what his face looked liked. Can you cringe hornily? Is Hornily a word? Yuri had no idea but the cocktail of aroused and mortified he wore on his face had to be perplexing at best.

“I just...really want to Beka. Please.” Yuri already had a hand working on his ass, just grabbing the flesh like a goddamn lifeline, hoping his eyes didn’t give away how desperate he was. When Otabek bit his lip and nodded, Yuri felt like cheering like he won the god damn lottery. He wasted no time plunging two fingers right back into his boyfriend. Finding the lost condom was one thing, getting a grip on it was a completely different beast.  
  
“That feels kind of weird.” No fucking shit, this wasn’t scissoring with his fingers, this was trying to get a dollar out of a donation bin with two fucking pencils.  
  
“I’m just trying new things.” He got it! Oh just barely, just needed to drag it out real careful.  
  
“Yuri, I’m sorry, I really-” Got it! Yuri grinned so fucking wide, he must have looked like he excavated 14 karat gold out of his boyfriends ass rather than a used condom. It might as well have been gold to Yuri because the simple idea of either having to explain he lost a condom _inside of him_ or Otabek finding it days later made him want to vomit on himself. He tossed it in a small plastic wastebasket next to his bed.  
  
“Sorry, I’ll suck you. It’s fine, I was just....” Yuri realized he was talking in circles when he didn’t have to. He could just shove his mouth full of cock and not even have to worry about it. So he simply pushed his hair behind his ear and got to work. Yuri hummed softly, trying to take as much of Otabek without gagging. He ran his tongue over Otabek’s cock like it was covered in the sprinkled frosting of the cupcakes they ate earlier. Otabek’s moans were throaty and thick like honey. The sound alone made Yuri’s dick twitch slightly, and he really hoped Otabek was ready to fuck again soon. It had been too long and Yuri was ready to finally cum.  
  
“Yura,” Otabek’s voice was a little distant, eyes lidded and looking right through him. “I’m ready again.” Yuri popped off Otabek’s dick with a dramatic smack and a devil's grin.  
  
“Let me just get another condom real quick-” Yuri realized his self sabotage before he even finished his sentence.  
  
“Did the other one break?” Otabek’s titled his head as he asked, already getting on all fours for Yuri.  
  
“Yes.” Yuri spoke too enthusiastically as he grabbed another condom from the box that ended up on the floor. He knew it wasn’t cool in the fucking slightest. But he was so blessed that Otabek gave him an out. He rolled it on, and lubed himself up with desperate movements. He gave no ceremony to sliding back into Otabek as if they’d been fucking for 3 years rather than 3 hours.  
  
It honestly felt like it in a way. Everything was so exciting and brand new, but their bodies yielded to each other in a way that was so familiar. Familiar far beyond what they’ve done. Yuri was close, he could feel Otabek’s body tense. He could feel the vibrations of a moan. He didn’t need Otabek to tell him. He reached down, wrapped his hand around his cock and he was cuming into his sheets almost instantly. The simple idea that Otabek got off pushed Yuri over the edge too. He gripped Otabek’s sweat damp shoulder with his other hand, and grunted into his hair. It took him a minute to catch his breath, remember that he had limbs and a body and bed before slipping out of Otabek and collapsing on his bed. The condom was honestly an after thought and Yuri had no qualms tossing on the floor. It was gross, but that was a problem for Future Yuri.  
  
“Holy shit, Yura.” Otabek was breathless, hair mussed, and smiling effortlessly at him. Yuri smiled back. Despite the fact they were both sweaty and sticky, he couldn’t help but get as close to Otabek’s warmth as physically possible.  
  
“Holy shit, Beka.” He murmured it into Otabek’s skin, placing a kiss on his neck. “Best worst date ever?”  
  
Otabek brushed Yuri’s damp strands away from his face and placed a soft kiss onto his forehead. “Best worst date ever.”

* * *

Going to the airport with Otabek was just as hard as Yuri thought it would be. He knew he was beyond lucky to have a chance to spend some time with him, but once he got a taste he found it incredibly hard to loosen his grasp.. In a very literal sense because he was pretty sure he was cutting off the circulation to Otabek’s fingers at this point. Otabek squeezed his back. 

“I know. We’ll find time, we have plenty of it.” Otabek smiled softly, and all Yuri could do was bite his lip. He tasted blood but it was a necessary price to pay to distract himself from how he might cry like a little bitch in public.  
  
“I know. I’ll just miss you. That’s all.” Yuri heard the hollow rehearsed lines of an attendant calling for Beka’s plane and pulled him in for a close hug. He shoved his face into his chest, giving him a moment to inhale and steel himself.  
  
“Bye Beka. Love you.” Yuri spoke as quietly as possible. This part of him wasn’t for the public at all, but it had to be the last thing Otabek saw before he left.  
  
“Love you too, Yura. I have a surprise for you once I get back.” Yuri cocked his head to the side, offering Otabek no words but curious eyes. “You’ll see.” He had that fucking smirk again, and Yuri put all of his trust in Otabek and shoved down the small wave of fear that threatened to wash over him.

Otabek leaned in, gave him a barely there peck on the lips before turning to board his flight. Yuri watched him through the window, and waved back before he stepped foot on the actual plane. He yanked out his phone and mashed on the screen to get an Uber, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He looked around the airport for the nearest bathroom before stomping over to it. He had every intention of pulling a Katsuki and sobbing in an empty stall until the driver called him. He’d have to pull out all his best threats to make sure the driver would swear to secrecy, because he knew he’d bawl like a baby the whole way home.

* * *

_Yura, you ready for your surprise?_

Otabek found himself uncharacteristically grinning at his phone. Giddy excitement was something he saw in Yuri a lot. Sparkling eyes on his pixelated screen that he ‘got him something.’ Something could range to another stuffed bear in the mail, or him pulling off his leggings to a vibrator in his ass. Yuri never disappointed. Otabek wanted to treat Yuri the same way, but  there was always a slight hesitance to having something so private floating in the internet's ether. Even if that was the end goal, there was a slight nervousness.  
  
Yuri had sent him a string of emojis (Otabek still hadn’t quite figured out how to decode it - but there was a heart in there so that’s probably good?) and he took a deep inhale before kicking off his pants. It was now or never. Otabek gave his dick a few strokes for good measure with his left hand while he opened snapchat with his right. Yuri made sure to let him know how much he loved his cock, so  there was no way he was going to send something that wasn’t at peak performance  
  
He looked at himself through the camera mirror. Stood up straight, made sure to extend his torso as long as he could. Shoulders square, hips pushed forward, hand firm on the base of his dick. He wasn’t  sure if this was attractive, it was hard for Otabek to measure himself to that kind of metric. But he thought Yuri would like it. So he sent it.  
  
There was a brief moment of panic that rolled through him like a tidal wave. It was impossible not to be nervous - even if he was sure Yuri would appreciate it. Those feelings quickly crashed into a soft seafoam wake when he saw:  
  
IceTigerYuri took a screenshot!

Otabek wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling, some poorly measured mixture of relief, pride, excitement and even a little bit of arousal. Maybe a lot.  
_  
_ _Omfg Beka_

_How are you this fucking hot_

_I’m already hard fucking god damn_

Otabek wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Yuri, his fingers hovered over the screen as he tried to think of something poignant to say. As poignant as you can get for sexting anyway. He heard another chime from his phone, and looking at the screen he felt his heart fall through his chest like an avalanche.  
  
_MilaBabi took a screenshot!_  
  
What.  
  
That couldn’t be right. He only sent it to Yuri, why on earth could Mila even see it. Was she with Yuri when he opened it? Could other phones know about this? Otabek was furiously typing into Google what could have possibly gone wrong when he got a call from Yuri.  
  
“Yuri, I’m very worried, I just saw-”  
  
“You posted it on your story, you absolute moron.” Yuri wasn’t yelling, but Otabek could tell he was exasperated.

“What do I do?” As much as Yuri was trying not to yell, Otabek was doing his best not to completely panic because he didn’t even know what his story _was_ but the last thing he needed was everyone having a naked picture of him on their phone.  
  
“You need to delete it, now. I’m hanging up but you _have_ to call me back when you’re done, okay?” Yuri didn’t even give him time to breathe before ending the call. He looked down at his phone to see even _JJ_ took a screenshot. He made a side note to have a talk about that later.  
  
It took some furious googling, but he managed to delete the snap before he got any more mortifying notifications. He let out a deep sigh, a little worried to call Yuri. Otabek realized that he didn’t even bother to get dressed during the whole disaster. He’d been pacing across his apartment naked with a phone in his hand. It would only get worse the longer he waited, so he dialed him back.  
  
“Yura, I am so sorry, I just thought-” He was met with a sharp cackle, and he couldn't help but flinch. After all of this, even Yuri was laughing at him? It was honestly the worst outcome.  
  
“You know who texted me? Fucking Katsudon. He was all in a tizzy about how it was _inappropriate,_ oh my god. It serves him right. He couldn’t even spell anything right. It was gold, Beka. Fucking gold. Second best thing to happen to me all day.”

The explanation didn’t make Otabek feel great, but at least Yuri wasn’t laughing _at_ him. He was laughing with him? Maybe? Otabek certainly wasn’t laughing so he wasn’t quite sure. He slowly made his way over to his bed, to sit on the edge with his head in his hands.  
  
“I’m not sure I can find the humor in this yet.” He admitted, cringing at how completely dejected he sounded.  
  
“Oh come on Beka. It’s not a big deal. Everyone will forget about this by the time Chris and Victor end up drinking together again. Besides.” There was a pause from Yuri, and Otabek felt the need to hold his breath to keep perfectly silent. “I really liked it. I don’t want you to stop.”  
  
Yuri’s voice was small, soft and impossibly genuine. As genuine as you could be for sexting. His voice covered Otabek like a blanket, and he couldn’t help but smile again. If Yuri was happy then that was all that mattered. Even if a handful of people had seen him naked. But, there was still one thing.  
  
“I don’t know Yuri. My pride is wounded. I don’t think I could muster up the strength without some motivation.” He could almost feel Yuri smirk across the line. He couldn’t help but curl his own lips up in the same fashion.  
  
Yuri sounded fake scandalized, laden with playfulness. “Beka, are you asking me to send nudes?”  
  
“I believe that is the _etiquette_.”


End file.
